Turncoat
by GesugaoWelrod
Summary: [Contains spoilers for the whole game] A raid on a Griffin outpost in S09 leads to a defection that will change the course of the war between Sangvis Ferri and Griffin & Kryuger. AU, a few characters are OOC. The Commander is an OC, not a SI. This story doesn't strictly follow the canon timeline. Cover art by Nazgul on Pixiv. [Added 12/12/2020: Story is on hold until February 2021]
1. Chapter 1

She could feel her anticipation building. Dare she say, her excitement, even. This, by itself, was not significant. The crucial detail was that she, a class of android known as a Tactical Doll, was feeling emotion.

What did that mean to a T-Doll? She, along with others of her kind, and anti-Doll activists, would insist it was merely a simulation of expression. Lines upon lines of code in her neural cloud, the headspace that carried her personality and memories, dictated her response to stimuli.

Could a Doll feel true emotion? She had no way of confirming it was as authentic as that of a human's.

Her excitement budded at the core of her being, thrumming like an electric pulse along her frame. The metal shell that housed her neural cloud was sculpted in the shape of an austere beauty. Her maid uniform did little to conceal her hourglass figure. Amber cyberoptics peered out from under black bangs swept to one side. A dark wire, the ends of which were attached to her silver collar, coiled around it. She'd styled her hair into buns that bobbed with every step she took.

This was Agent.

She was one of the Ringleaders of Sangvis Ferri, a rogue army of T-Dolls without a human overseer. Sangvis Ferri had once been a renowned manufacturer of combat androids, but those halcyon days were long gone.

Agent wore a mask of indifference. Both to hide her feelings from her fellow Ringleaders, and in defiance of her programming.

The click-clack of her high-heel boots ceased when she came face-to-face with a pig-tailed Doll that didn't even reach up to the maid's chest. Agent's appearance had been based off a twenty-something supermodel, whereas this Doll was modelled after a teen girl. Clad in form-fitting leather, she was armed with waist-mounted grenade launchers.

"Are your preparations complete, Destroyer?" Agent's alto voice startled the midget grenadier.

"O-Of course they are! Every unit under my command knows the plan and is fit for combat!" Destroyer sounded as childish as she looked. However, she was a Ringleader, and that counted for something in Sangvis Ferri.

The plan. Agent couldn't stop the motors in her pale recreation of a human jaw from twitching, making it clench. Their Master had grown impatient, and sought to finally to claim the data she'd been after for so long.

Her newest plan called for an invasion of their enemy's command post in Area S09. Agent disapproved of the idea, but her Master wouldn't hear it. She'd thrown the maid's most recent failure in her face.

"You couldn't capture M4A1 to get the data that she downloaded," Agent's Master had sneered down at her. "What makes you think any of your suggestions regarding strategies or tactics have any merit?"

A seething Agent had felt compelled to cite her combat experience, to remind her superior that she was still useful.

"You're lucky you're otherwise so reliable, Agent. Or else I would have deleted your neural cloud by now," the leader of Sangvis Ferri had said. "I'll let you make up for your failure, but I don't want you questioning me again. Got it?"

It'd been a humiliation that all the Ringleaders witnessed. Recalling it made Agent burn with rage. She sensed her circuits overheating. Despite her low opinion of Master's strategy, she yearned for the opportunity to reduce the AR Team to molten scrap. That would prove that Griffin's elite T-Dolls were nothing more than stick-wielding pieces of trash.

Agent, Destroyer and two other ringleaders were mobilising for the assault on the Griffin outpost in S09. In a hanger half the size of a football stadium, humanoid and non-human Sangvis units were boarding all available aircraft, while technician Dolls performed final checks on the helis and VTOLs.

"Thought I'd find you two here." Agent frowned. She turned her head. The T-Doll who'd spoken towered over Agent and Destroyer. A single yellow eye regarded them with cold amusement. An eyepatch covered the other one. Her mane of snowy synthetic fibres flowed to her knees. She wore a high-collared asymmetric dark dress that emphasised her voluptuous breasts. Agent eyed the giant gleaming Sangvis Ferri logo stitched on the cloth draped around the other's waist that was supposed to pass for a skirt. It had been a personal touch.

"Alchemist. Are you ready for the campaign?"

"I'll always be ready to put some Griffins outta commission."

"Where's Dreamer? We're leaving in five."

The cyclops snorted. "How the hell should I know? I'm not her keeper."

"Master won't be pleased if we're delayed for any reason."

"Course she won't be. Y'know, it's gonna be my first time facing these particular brats. Got any advice so I don't screw up like you did?"

Alchemist chortled at the maid's baleful glare. Destroyer glanced between the two uneasily. Of the three, Agent was the proudest, and despised being reminded of her mistakes.

"Don't underestimate them," Agent answered, "and don't toy with them. They're insects, but bugs can scuttle through the tiniest of gaps once they locate them." She strode off to board the VTOL assigned to her.

* * *

A haggard face was illuminated by an array of monitors. The bags under his hazel eyes made him seem tired, but that couldn't be further from the truth. A plastic cup half-filled with cold coffee, fetched from the dispenser down the corridor, and an ashtray were on his desk in front of him. He rolled a cigarette around in his mouth, his gaze flicking between feeds.

He wore a crimson uniform and an armband on his right sleeve that designated him as a commander. He'd loosened his tie and undone his top button, unconcerned with how casual he appeared. He was pretty sure he'd lost the customary beret that'd been issued with the rest of his outfit.

Griffin Commander Xavier Dumont was pulling a late-nighter. The Command Room was manned by a skeleton crew of Dolls and humans; the rest of the usual staff were asleep or off-site. He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, and got up to have a closer look at the monitors.

His blonde hair was greying. He hadn't lost his physique from his days of service, despite working what was essentially a desk jockey job.

Most of his echelons had shut down for the night. The AR Team was fast asleep in their bunks. Thompson's team was running a drill. M200 and Mk23 were practising their shooting skills down at the firing range. Xavier swallowed. A prone schoolgirl with a backpack expertly cycling the bolt of her rifle was still incongruous to him, even after deploying her in the field so many times. She shut one violet optic, peered through the scope of the Intervention, and squeezed the trigger.

The shot landed on the target dummy 600 meters away. M200 scored a perfect hit, ranking in the maximum number of points possible for one shot. Then she cycled the bolt, ejecting the spent casing, and began anew. He'd had her fielded for a few months, and she proved to be more consistently accurate than Griffin veterans like WA2000. It was a point of contention between the pair of sniper Dolls. Xavier had silently encouraged a rivalry by putting them on the same team to bring about better results in the field.

Thompson was another veteran, and one of the few echelon leaders with a command module installed. HQ had overturned Xavier's request to get all echelon leaders outfitted with command modules, much to his frustration. They'd claimed it'd be expensive, but he called bullshit on that one. He privately suspected that HQ didn't want too many of their Dolls running around with self-control at their fingertips.

The mobster Doll already had a substantial combat record prior to Xavier being instated as a Commander, having led dozens of day and night ops. She was a calm professional on the job, while a drunkard off duty. It helped that everyone on her team respected her. Ingram and M1911 had worked with the Chicago Typewriter previously.

"Commander, the scanner's picking up multiple unidentified bogies," a throaty female voice interrupted his brooding.

Xavier turned. His adjutant, MG5, had spoken. She wore a blue-gray loose-sleeved top with a cleavage window, and navy baggy pants that were cut to show off her panties. Cross-marked pads were strapped to her knees. Her cerulean cat-like optics regarded him calmly.

Xavier clasping his hands together behind his back. "Hail 'em."

MG5 jabbed a key on the computer keyboard at her station with a red-nailed finger. "Attention, unidentified aircraft. You're entering Griffin and Kryuger airspace. Please identify yourselves." She looked up at Xavier, frowning. "Commander, they're not responding."

As far as Xavier knew, they weren't expecting a visit or a delivery at this time. His tactical tablet hadn't received any new notifications about either.

He exhaled. "Treat as hostile. Shoot 'em down."

"...Yessir." MG5 didn't mask her reluctance or confusion, relaying the order to the anti-aircraft gun operatives. She ultimately trusted his judgement. She brushed some of her shoulder-length silver locks away from her nose, tucking them behind her ear.

Xavier watched the blips blink on the radar for a couple more heartbeats before they permanently faded.

"All bogeys have been destroyed, Commander."

Xavier scowled. That had been too easy. 'Something's not right here...'

Everyone else in the control room let out a sigh of relief.

That relief was shattered by a cry. "Commander, we've got multiple Sangvis approaching from the North!" Xavier shouldered his way past MG5 towards another T-Doll, who stared at her console in trepidation. Welrod Mk II was a regular in the base's command room, despite not being part of the official chain of command. Her blonde hair had been drawn into braids. Emerald eyes were transfixed at the console screen.

Xavier peered down at it. A throng of mechanical and humanoid Sangvis Ferri units filled the screen. They swarmed towards the north side of the base, where the dorms and training facilities were located.

"MG5, sound the alarm!" ordered Xavier. "I want every T-Doll fit for combat to be deployed."

"Yessir!" His adjutant complied.

Rushing over to his desk, Xavier snatched up his tablet and searched for Thompson's frequency. He jabbed it and waited for the line to connect.

The gangster Doll's voice crackled through the tablet's speaker. "What is it, boss?"

"Thompson, I need you and your team topside. A whole lotta Sangvis just showed up on our doorstep. I'm ordering you to get to the north perimeter to repel 'em."

"Copy tha-"

Xavier switched frequencies, patching through to Mk23.

"Darling, I was just about to call you. The training dummies have stopped work-"

"I turned them off. SOCOM, you and M200 need to get to the rooftops and provide coverfire for Thompson's team. Comm your teammates and send them there."

"Where exactly do you want us?"

Xavier opened up a 3D display of the base. He zoomed in on the northern side rooftops, and designated the sniping positions.

"Sending you the coordinates now. Get to the rooftops, ASAP."

"Yes, darling~"

Xavier set the tablet down and pressed the intercom button. He leaned forward and spoke into the mike. "All units be advised, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. The base is under attack. Echelons Five through Eight, defend the northern perimeter. AR Team, and Echelons One through Four, remain on standby until further notice."

He switched off the intercom.

An explosion rocked the control room. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. Xavier was flung off his chair onto the floor. He pushed himself up. "Where did that come from?" he demanded angrily.

"South side, sir!" shouted Welrod. "You need to see this, Commander!"

The CO re-joined Welrod at her console. He instantly blanched. The feed showed a row of what appeared to be cannons on a cliff overlooking the Command Post. The outlines of their whirring gears glowed purple in the darkness.

"How the hell did we miss these things?" snarled Xavier.

"It looks like SF set these units up just beyond our scanning range, sir. They've already destroyed a quarter of the south side AA guns."

"There's more, Commander," added MG5, hefting her namesake. "Sangvis Ringleaders inbound, both north and south side."

Xavier regarded the camera feeds. He recognised Destroyer and, based off M4's descriptions and files from HQ, he deduced that the woman with black horns and the maid headband was Agent. He didn't recognise the other two. A levitating sniper, and a Doll carrying firearm/blade hybrids. All four Ringleaders had deployed their dummies on either side of the base.

He gulped, thumbing the intercom button. "All remaining Echelons, defend the southern perimeter. AR Team, you're to aid defending the north face of the base. All units be advised, four Ringleaders have been spotted in the area."

Xavier deactivated the intercom. He faced Welrod. "Send out a distress signal."

The British Doll hesitated. "Sir, we're being jammed."

"What?"

"I can't transmit anything. Commander... I think we're on our own."

Xavier's heart raced. He took a deep breath.

"Orders, Commander?" MG5 asked.

"What are Sangvis' numbers like?" queried Xavier.

"Preliminary scans show that they've got us outnumbered a hundred to one. There could be reinforcements waiting beyond the scanners' range."

The real threat here were the Ringleaders and those cliff-bound cannons. Xavier, his Dolls and his staff were cut off.

They could stay and fight. Maybe even disable the jammer and broadcast an SOS. But how many Tactical Dolls would fall before that was achieved? And how many human personnel would be caught in the crossfire? Humans by themselves stood no chance against T-Dolls, especially those without restraint like the SF.

"Commence evacuation," Xavier said.

This was met with protest from Welrod. "Sir, we can overcome this. Send out a strike team to take out the jammer, while our defences hold the line."

"And run the risk of getting overrun? No. I refuse. If it was me and just T-Dolls, I'd be all for it. But the technicians, the logistics staff... I can't risk their lives like that. Nor am I gonna send anyone on what's essentially a suicide mission."

Welrod's crisply accented speech carried a note of disapproval. "Sir, we're just T-Dolls. We know and understand the costs. What's a few dead Dolls compared to the preservation of this base and all in the humans in it?"

Xavier clenched his teeth. "That doesn't fly with me. Guide all human personnel to the airfield."

MG5 cocked her machine-gun. "What teams do you want leading this?"

"AR team, Type Ninety-Five's squad, and G36's echelon. Evacuating human staff is priority one." Xavier furrowed his brow. "Let me make an addendum. The AR Team is priority one as well."

"Roger. I'll pass it on to M4A1," MG5 decided.

The Commander ticked an eyebrow. "Wait, inter-base coms work?"

"Apparently so."

Xavier swept his gaze around the control room. "All human staff are to rendezvous with the AR Team and head to the airfield."

Three officers filed out. Xavier returned his attention to the feeds.

* * *

"MG5's issued new orders from the Commander!" shouted M4A1.

The northern entrance to the G&K compound was a sight out of hell: gunfire raged all round. Snipers M200 and WA2000 were lying at the lip of the rooftop, their dummies scattered about. Their rifle barrels peeked out of tiny gaps in their cover.

Thompson's squad were down on the ground with the AR team. The units from both echelons were hiding behind the obliterated remains of the turret towers. M4A1 emptied the last of her rifle's magazine, ducked down and pressed her back to the scorched, jagged metal. "I'm out! Reloading!"

Beside her were her squadmates: AR-15, M16A1, and M4 SOPMOD II.

"What're the Commander's orders?" AR-15, the closest physically, asked. She smoothly switched mags, re-cocking her semi-automatic. The ponytailed android peeked out of cover. Across the parking lot were Agent and another Sangvis she didn't recognise. AR-15 opened fire on the latter. The one-eyed SF bullrushed across the car park, shrugging off shot after shot.

"Commander says that the AR Team is to evacuate with the human staff."

AR-15 scoffed, "Evacuate? Us? We can turn this around."

"Yeah! What's the commander thinking? I wanna rip all these Sangvis bitches to shreds!" howled SOPMOD II, a pale blonde dressed in form-fitting black.

She popped up out of her hiding spot. SOPMOD II let loose a grenade, firing it from the underside of her carbine. The grenade sailed straight for the charging cyclops, who stopped and blurred.

The explosive detonated, sending shrapnel everywhere.

"I can't get a bead on her!" SOPMOD II yelled. "Does anyone have a shot?!"

"Flashbangs don't work either," said the last member of Anti-Rain. She sported a patch over the scarred half of her visage. Her orange-chestnut locks were braided in a thick, unwinding ponytail that had been pockmarked by laserfire. Her jacket and skirt weren't in any better condition.

"Stand by, AR Team," said someone faintly. She was quieter than M4A1. Then again, when did a sniper need to shout?

A thunderous gunshot echoed. The blurring Sangvis cyclops dropped like a sack of bricks, her rictus grin frozen and a .375 CheyTac lodged in her skull.

"Good kill, M200," complimented M16 as she resumed fire.

"Copy." The distinctive click of a cycled bolt, followed by the soft ding of an ejected shell casing, sounded through the radio channel.

"How did you land on a shot on that Ringleader?" someone else squawked through the radio. "Neither of us are equipped with the tracking software to make such a shot."

"Training," M200 responded mutely.

"Training?! Don't give me that crap, Intervention! I've been on the field longer than you and I couldn't pull it off!" Walther WA2000 hissed.

"You two, cut the chatter." A chipper Mk23 joined the channel. "You wouldn't want to disappoint darling, would you~? M4A1, we'll cover the AR Team's escape. You know what to do, right?"

"Yes." She could see G36 and Type 95 hurrying their squads to the base's doors, ducking and dodging blasterfire.

"Good luck~"

"AR Team, follow G36 and Type 95's echelons. We'll regroup inside."

"Tch. This is wrong. We should be staying to fight," muttered AR-15. Privately, M4A1 agreed.

"Thompson, give us an opening!" she called to the other echelon leader.

"Roger that. Ingram, M1911, throw your smokes!"

A pair of gas canisters clattered to the ground, hissing as their contents were released. Agent and her lackeys were shrouded in smoke.

"AR Team, run for the door!" M4A1 peeled from her cover, and broke into a sprint. Her team-mates were hot on her heels. She rushed around debris and dived over ruined metal. Her olfactory sensors detected burnt copper and the stench of sulfur. She made it to the entrance where G36 and Type 95 were waiting, weapons drawn. Once all of Anti-Rain were inside, M4A1 said, "Shut the door."

The double-doors slammed shut, locking. "Where are your squads?" M4A1 inquired.

G36 reloaded her assault rifle. "Just up ahead. They've rendezvoused with the technicians and logistics staff."

M4A1 gazed at the group of humans and Dolls.

"I'll take point," she decided. "M16, you and Type 95's team are with me. AR-15, SOP II, you and G36's echelon will be guarding the rear. Let's get to the airfield."

* * *

"Your pathetic toys are useless." Though her dummy's vision was obscured, the cameras serving as eyes in her original body were unhindered. Agent stepped forward and lifted up her skirt, revealing the hems of her stockings pinching her thighs, her garter belt, and more relevantly four grooved, cuboid-like cannons. The upper pair were over/under double-barrelled. The lower guns had tall, thin single barrels. Matte black and composed of multiple alloys, every cannon was as long as her arm and twice its breadth. They were attached to mechanical limbs that descended from a sleek harness secured around her midsection.

Using her blinded dummy for cover, Agent activated her shield. The shield was a hexagonally tessellating bubble of energy that encased her entire body. Able to withstand anti-tank rounds, it had a radius of approximately three metres and was two heads taller than the wielder herself. At the fore of the transparent bubble, there was a massive vermillion holographic plate consisting of three conjoining V-shaped sections. Contrary to popular belief, it did not obstruct Agent's view whatsoever. She could peer through the hologram, while anybody opposite her couldn't.

She waited for a pause in the enemy fire, listening intently. Dismissing her shield, she swung out of cover and unleashed a volley of laserfire. Two shots caught a fedora-wearing submachine-gunner in the knees, downing her. The third shot blew the head of a dual-wielding hand-gunner clean off. The last round burned through the face of a violet ponytailed sniper. One of the sniper dummies, Agent determined at a second glance.

The other submachine gunner, carrying five sheathed blades with stitches on her belly and limbs, dived behind the blazing remnants of a turret. Agent pelted the rooftop lip and the burning wreckage with blasterfire. Her breasts jiggled from the recoil of her laser cannons. Thanks to her targeting software, Agent could shoot as accurately as a sniper aiming down her scope while firing from the hip.

She strode up to the downed SMG Doll. Agent kicked the Griffin's weapon out of arm's reach, then rested one foot on the submachine gunner's face.

The maid stared coldly at the T-Doll under her heel, apathetic to her glare. "You thought you could challenge me?" taunted Agent. "Hmph. Worthless scrap should know its place." She pressed down with her foot, crushing the now hatless Doll's head in a matter of seconds. Agent ground her heel for good measure.

"Thompson!" came a desperate shriek. "I'm going to kill you, you Sangvis bitch!"

"Go ahead and try. Step out from that cover and face me. You will share her fate."

"Forget her, Mac! We have to go!"

Agent brought up her shield just in time to block another wave of sniperfire. "Go? I'm your Agent of Death. You have nowhere to run."

* * *

"Commander, the airfield's on fire!" reported M4A1. She and her retinue had arrived at the base's south-eastern airfield, only to discover it'd been bombed. Smashed and battered Hinds and VTOLs, with shattered cockpits and severed or bent rotor blades, lined the smouldering tarmac.

M4A1's hair fluttered in the wind as she clutched her headset.

"They used mortars," explained the Commander. "Sniper units have dealt with 'em for the moment."

"What now, Commander? We can't leave anymore."

"Not by air. They may have cut off one avenue of escape, but we have another way."

"Huh? Have you got more aircraft hidden away?"

"No, nothing like that. Head underground."

"...Underground, sir?"

"This Command Post was built on top of a metro station. I spent the previous seven months renovating that route. It'll get you close to civilization. You should be out of the jammer's range to send out an SOS. Link up with Welrod. She'll show you the way."

"Rog'. M4A1 out."

* * *

Welrod led M4A1 and her group through the winding corridors of the S09 outpost. The blonde's pinstriped miniskirt swayed with the sashay of her bared hips. She'd fastened a vest over her pinstriped waistcoat and grey shirt. Holstered namesakes were strapped to Welrod's creamy thighs. M4 noted the buckles of the leather straps digging into the synth-skin.

The other Doll didn't hold a specified rank or position. Having been under Commander Dumont's command for almost seven months, M4 had never figured out what exactly Welrod was responsible for.

Welrod abruptly stopped and faced them. "How's everyone doing munitions-wise?"

"Running low," murmured AR-15.

"Only got about half left," M16 answered.

Similar replies were repeated by the other Tactical Dolls in the group.

A panel on the wall to M4A1's left dropped down, unveiling rows of mags, flashbangs, frags, smoke grenades and more.

"Grab what you need and let's keep moving," instructed Welrod.

M4A1 nabbed a few magazines, stuffing them into the pockets of her tactical vest. She also pocketed three frags. Lastly, she picked up another M4 carbine, slinging it over her shoulder.

"It never hurts to have a backup," whispered the team leader.

The others were re-stocking their ammo and grenades.

"This isn't the only weapons cache on-site, is it?" mused M16. She slammed a fresh mag into her rifle.

"No. The Commander's spent months prepping for a potential invasion. He's ordered surplus munitions and gear just for these deposits."

"Did Kalina help with this?" chimed in M4. Being the chief logistics officer, it seemed like something right up her alley.

Welrod smirked. "No, actually. The Commander and I coordinated with hired help to get all this set up."

M4 suspected that Kalina wouldn't be pleased with the Commander and Welrod going behind her back. The usually cheery redhead preferred to know everything that went on in the base.

"Sangvis have almost breached the Northern perimeter. Welrod, you need to get a move on." The Commander spoke through Welrod's radio.

"C'mon, we have to pick up the pace," said Welrod, retaking point. The other Dolls and the human personnel followed her.

"I can't make out all of you through the cameras. Has everyone been accounted for?"

M4A1 responded, "We're missing three technicians. Harkov, Federov, and Petrov."

"Dammit. I'll try to find them through the cameras."

Welrod halted next to a steel door marked 'MAINTENANCE IN PROGRESS. KEEP OUT.' She keyed in the access code, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss.

She flicked some switches beside the door. The lights came on. M4A1 strode up to the railing and looked down.

Overhead light racks illuminated a trio of cracked platforms, which were bracketed by empty trains.

"G36, Type 95, set up a perimeter with your teams to guard the entrance," Welrod ordered. "Everyone else, board the train furthest on the right."

The technicians and the logistics staff started down the stairs, SOP II, M16, and AR-15 trailing after them. M4 paused. "The Commander's not coming with us?"

A scowl flashed on Welrod's features. "No. He's staying behind to guide the evacuation. Said he'd be out on the last train."

"See you on the other side, Welrod."

"You too, M4A1."

M4 hurried down the steps and boarded the train already packed with passengers. The doors shut behind them and train began rolling.

"I hope everyone makes it out okay..." whispered SOPMOD II.

M4 laid a hand on her shoulder. "So do I, SOP II. So do I."

* * *

Agent scowled. "These insects are a distraction." Her gloved fingers bunched the fabric of her skirt as she unleashed a salvo that blasted through the heads of two Griffin dummies on the rooftop.

M4A1, the package, had retreated further into the base. Unfortunately for that meek waste of parts, she had nowhere to run. The Griffins' sole means of escape had been obliterated to kingdom come.

"Destroyer," the maid called over the gunfire. "Dispose of this trash. I will locate M4A1."

Destroyer had arrived seconds ago. She fired a torrent of grenades at the snipers and their support to no avail. Each canister never quite met its mark, either exploding too early or impacting off-target.

The Griffin snipers became surrounded by consecutive explosions.

Through the dummy link system, Agent checked on the progress of her dummies at the southern base entrance. The Griffins' formation was stronger there, and so far they were repelling all of the SF forces, but only just.

One blast from a Jupiter catapulted an entire echelon, and the enemy team got consumed by a gigantic fireball. Moments later, the surviving units retreated closer to the entrance.

The northern defense was overall weaker, deduced Agent. In any case, this was her chance to fulfil her Master's wish. She aimed her hip-attached cannons at the doors. The armaments whined as they charged up, scarlet energy amassing at the barrel tips.

The resulting four beams of energy tore through the door. Fragments of red-hot steel scattered about the hallway. They crunched under Agent's boots. Holding her skirt up and weapons out, she marched along the corridor.

She turned the corner.

A trio of humans had almost bumped into her. They paled and started backing away, throwing their hands up.

"Jesus Christ!" the nearest one gritted his teeth.

Judging by their labcoats and badges, they were T-Doll technicians.

"L-Look, please don't kill us..." another pleaded.

"Forget it, Petrov. We're screwed."

Agent eyed them indifferently. She spotted an overhead camera trained on her. "How troublesome. A voyeur spying on me." She angled her top-right cannon and emptied a round into the camera's lens. The technicians jumped. Sparks showered from the destroyed device.

* * *

"All units be advised, SF have made it into the base. If you see Agent, only engage long enough to delay. Your primary objective is to evacuate. Dumont out." Xavier placed his communicator on the desk and wiped his brow. Sweat coiled at the nape of his neck.

He glanced at Welrod. Her main body was at hallway 131-B, the doorway to the metro station. The British robot's dummies were at the computers, fingers clacking on keyboards. A program script was running on-screen.

"How's your progress?" asked Xavier.

"97% of all files have been deleted," responded the Welrod dummy furthest from him.

"What about the backups?"

"Those I have already deleted," chorused the trio of HG dummies.

Xavier lit a cigarette. "Patch me through to SOCOM." He spotted the pistolier and what remained of her team dashing through the corridors. Grizzly had draped a legless Contender over her shoulder while the Mk V's duplicate followed SOCOM and WA2000, who'd taken point. M200 was at the tail end of the echelon, consisting of merely two bodies. The Walther rifle android was down to a single body. Doors shut and locked behind them intermittently.

"You're on the line with her now," confirmed Welrod.

"SOCOM, you read me?"

"Yes darling. I'm sorry we couldn't stop Agent or her minions." SOCOM pouted.

"Coast is clear. Thompson's team mopped the stragglers here." WA2000 gingerly stepped over an SF Guard lying facedown in a puddle of its own fluids. Guards, Scouts, and Rippers with similar fates were strewn about the corridor.

"Fault lies with me, not you, SOCOM. Get your team to hallway 131-B. How much ammo have you got left?"

"Ah, not much," admitted SOCOM. "Walther's out. Everyone else is running low."

"And you let her take point?"

"She'd make a good shield if nothing else~"

"Hey!" WA2000 glowered. "I'm an elite and this is the treatment I get?!"

"It was either WA or Grizzly's dummy that's out of ammo, too. I figured we'd be more likely to get attacked from behind."

"Don't you dare ignore me!" WA2000 fumed, stepping right into Mk23's personal space.

Xavier took a long drag of his cig. Holding it in one hand, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other.

"Sir, I believe they're standing beside a weapons deposit. One that will allow two or three of them to resupply," a Welrod Dummy reminded him from her workstation.

A panel dropped down from the wall behind WA2000. It was a stash of ammo and firearms.

"Good call." Xavier brought the mike closer to his lips. "Team SOCOM, use the weapons cache and head to the extraction point."

Grizzly, Mk23 and M200 didn't have to be told twice. While they reloaded their guns, and then grabbed as many mags and grenades as they could, WA2000 stood off to the side, her arms folded under her breasts. "Commander, you left nothing for me here."

"I must've forgotten." Xavier sighed at the sniper's lour that was caught on-camera. "I guess it's time to prove whether you're really an 'elite.' Pick up that spare Intervention. It's yours for the time being."

The violet-haired German Doll pulled a face. "Commander, I'm imprinted to the Walther W-"

"I know. I'm ordering you to deactivate your Weapon Imprint and use that M200."

The Weapon Imprint was software that enabled a Tactical Doll to perform at peak efficiency with the firearm assigned to her, the name of which she would share. It was standard protocol at Griffin and Kryuger, but Xavier didn't agree with it completely. What if, during a mission, a Doll's weapon got damaged, or she misplaced it, or she ran out of ammo?

She'd be unarmed.

A Weapon Imprint was part of a T-Doll's neural cloud. Tampering with an IOP-developed neural cloud was illegal, as it would be a breach of terms in a contract between Griffin and IOP, the android manufacturer and main source of G&K's Dolls. Knowing that, Xavier had still gone ahead and had ordered for the modification of the WIs of a few selected candidates, WA2000 being one of them.

"Don't tell me all that training was for nothing. You sure like to talk a lot about being an elite T-Doll, but can actually you back that up?"

"Th-this is-"

"I know it's not the same as using your assigned rifle. You practically consider it an extension of yourself. But Walther, you've trained months for this. And I picked you first, because you were the first suitable candidate to catch my eye."

"I was going to say it's a bolt action," whined WA2000. "I hated practicing with bolt-actions..."

"Get over it. At least it's the same type of weapon. In the field, you could get stuck with the choice of a shotgun or a machine gun."

"F-Fine." WA2000 lifted up the leftover Intervention. She cocked the bolt-action, and placed her finger on the trigger.

"Not going to brag?" M200 muttered as she looked over her own sniper.

WA2000 blushed furiously. "Sh-shut up, M200."

"Ladies, this goes without saying, but don't tell anyone else about WA's training. Keep it to yourselves."

"Yes, darling~" Mk23 winked and saluted at the camera watching them.

"Get goin' already." He cut the transmission.

Xavier showed his back to the feed. "How's the evacuation coming along? Has the second train left yet?"

"Yessir," confirmed Welrod. "Second train just departed. Third train is filling up now."

He rechecked the array of monitors. The Commander watched the battle raging at and near hallway 131-B. The echelons guarding it had set up barricades using supply crates and sandbags.

MG5's five dummies lined up in a row, their Machine Guns mounted on stacked crates. Shells rained in droves onto the floor as each MG spat hot lead, knocking down Vespids and Rippers foolish enough to approach. The dummies on the ends of the row ran out of ammo, while the other MG5s switched from full-auto to firing off short bursts. It was a simple tactic to ensure that not all five dummies had to reload simultaneously, becoming vulnerable to enemy attacks. The leftmost and rightmost copies of MG5 cocked their machine guns and resumed shooting. Then it was their turns to switch to burst-fire as the middle units began reloading. Of course, his adjutant was being supported by Type 95's team. On the right, K11 was popping off a fusillade of grenades whilst laughing gleefully. On the left, Vector hurled a Molotov at an incoming phalanx of Sangvis. The enemy T-Dolls had nowhere to hide, quickly getting consumed by fire. They convulsed, raising their guns to retaliate. A futile act. Either the fire finished them off or they were cut down by MG5, K11 or Vector.

Hand on her headset, Welrod reported, "Sir, just received word from SOCOM. Her team's pinned down in hallway 79-C."

Grabbing his tactical tablet, Xavier searched for Type 95's frequency. He contacted the echelon leader. "Ninety-Five, SOCOM's team is getting boxed in at 79-C. Send two of your Dolls to clear a path for them."

"At once, Commander."

* * *

A click resounded, barely heard over the din of battle, after WA2000 pulled the trigger of her borrowed CheyTac Intervention. She cursed under her breath. She'd forgotten to cycle the bolt. She yanked the lever. A .408 casing was spat out from the chamber, striking the floor with a ding. During this action, an enemy Scout whizzed towards the oblivious WA, who was fixated on her own rifle. The boxy SF android was just about to let loose, when a thunderous shot knocked it out of the air. The Scout pinwheeled, thudding to the ground at WA's feet. Its sparking frame twitched.

WA2000 looked over to her rescuer, and grit her teeth. M200 was already aiming at her next target. WA2000 secretly envied how unfazed M200 was by almost everything: Victory, defeat, retreating, training. The ashen-ponytailed waif of a Doll was incredibly stoic. Only the Commander, and Mk23, much to WA's amazement, could bring out a response from M200, usually her face reddening from the praise they heaped on her.

"Where the hell are those reinforcements?" hissed WA2000. She blasted through the visor of a crouching Jager, shattering it and fissuring its cranium.

Mk23 was providing coverfire for the German android. She fired off four rounds, taking out a Scout and a Guard. Her gun clicked empty. She discarded the spent mag and slotted a fresh one into her sidearm. "Just hold out a little longer, WA~"

Guards and Scouts had encircled their barricaded position. Further back, Jagers were attempting to pick them off, too.

"Jagers. I hate Jagers." WA2000 crouched behind a supply box and reloaded. "If you haven't noticed, we're about to be overrun!" She propped the CheyTac's bipod on a supply box and drew a bead on a Jager.

Familiar reports of firearms disrupted the battle. The Jager in WA's scope fell to shots from behind. She pulled a face.

"Reinforcements!" chirped Mk23.

Within moments, the Sangvis troops advancing on SOCOM's team were eliminated.

"Of all the Dolls he could've sent, why'd it have to be her...?" WA moaned. She straightened, holding her Intervention at waist-level.

"'I-It's not like I needed your help or anything, idiot!'"

WA scowled at the sound of her own voice. She blushed, averting her gaze. "I don't sound anything like that."

M200 nodded. "Too high pitched. Tone is just about right, though."

Scandalized, WA cried, "M200!"

"Heh." Her impersonator was a short T-Doll with aviators atop her head and a gas mask hanging off her hip. Despite the grievous situation they were in, this android's electronic ruby irises shone with mirth. "Guess I'll just have to keep practicing until I get it right."

"Ahem." The taller Doll behind her cleared her throat. Her pallid complexion, combined with her ochre gaze and stiff expression, unsettled WA. "We must return to 131-B before the Sangvis leadership reaches it."

"Right, right. C'mon, everyone, follow me and AUG."

"Take point, P90," said AUG, bringing up her assault rifle to bear.

The diminutive P90 rolled her eyes as she shouldered her bullpup. "'Course you're gonna make me take point."

"You're the one with the holo-clones. You stand a better chance of surviving first contact."

* * *

Welrod's cropped gloves reeked of gunpowder. Her olfactory sensors detected the stench, and she reflexively wrinkled her artificial nose. A human response she'd picked up.

She inwardly cursed the firearm model she's been assigned. She furiously yanked back the bolt on the side of her pistol and drew the gun on the nearest Sangvis unit. A Guard at the fore of an enemy formation led the march. Its visor was cracked and its shield dented and riddled with holes, yet it still held up.

A blast from a 12-gauge sent it sprawling on the floor. The other Guards immediately behind flinched from the impact, halting in their tracks for microseconds, undiscernible for a human, before resuming their advance. The Griffin Doll shielding Welrod pumped her shotgun. A shell clacked to the ground and rolled away, getting crushed into shards by a Sangvis boot.

Welrod shot the downed Guard right between the eyes. Her head thudded, and the multitude of fibres comprising her black mane of hair became soaked in oily cranial fluid. The dead Guard's cyberoptics dimmed.

The front line of Griffin Dolls was comprised of shotgunners, who used their attached shields to block enemy gunfire, while the rows behind them took their shots. Their initial positions at hallway 131-B had been overrun, and they'd fallen back closer to the metro's entrance.

"Ringleader spotted at 3 o'clock!" bellowed MG5, somewhere at Welrod's back. Welrod turned to look. Sure enough, the one-eyed Sangvis commander from earlier was rushing towards the tightly knit group of Griffin Dolls.

'Another dummy,' Welrod supposed.

"SGs, form a semicircle around us!" MG5 ordered. The shotgunners complied. Within seconds, the requested formation was achieved.

Welrod recognised the tactic. It was something MG5 had copied from the Commander. The SGs acted as shields to compensate for lack of sufficient cover, while Griffin forces were under attack from multiple sides. Welrod, MG5 and the others were lucky they were indoors. There was nothing stopping a Bomber from raining death from above while they maintained such a formation.

"All right-side units, concentrate your fire on that Ringleader! Everyone else, keep firing at the Sangvis at 12 o'clock!"

"Tch, it's Alchemist," spat a team Captain. Scorn twisted FAL's features, her mouth drawn in a snarl.

Welrod's hearing receptors adjusted to the increased volume of gunfire.

"Fire in the hole!" shouted K11. Welrod caught sight of her unleashing an explosive torrent at the identified Ringleader.

Unlike at the carpark, there wasn't that much room here for Alchemist to manoeuvre. K11's grenades, marked with an obnoxious shade of yellow, smashed into Alchemist's torso and thighs, rupturing them instantly. Oil splattered on the walls. Gnarled remains of mechanical components spilled out of Alchemist's burst chest. She swore as she collapsed. Hatred gleamed in her one good eye. Cranial fluid spilled over it. Her expression of rage was preserved when MG5 put a bullet in her head.

"Agent at 12 o'clock!" a panicked cry resounded.

Welrod felt her insides chill. Whether that was a phantom sensation or her interior machinery becoming cold, she couldn't tell.

Agent was leading the next wave of Sangvis forces. Her hair buns bobbled slightly behind her white headband and her metallic horns. The maid's raven bangs were swept to one side. Double-barrelled laser cannons drew out from under her upraised skirt, aiming at the Griffin shotgunners at the opposite end of the corridor.

"Open fire! Open fire!" thundered MG5, leading by example. Instantaneously, a bubble shield, as wide as a shed, manifested around Agent. Lead bounced off the thrumming energy construct as she strode forward.

Welrod spoke into her radio, "Where is Team SOCOM?"

"They're almost at your position, Welrod. Just hold on a little longer," answered Dumont.

"Sir, I don't know how you're going to get to us. There's a whole load of Sangvis between us and you."

"I've got a plan for that, don't worry."

"We're here~" sang Mk23. Her locks were singed and gashes ran along her cheeks. Her clothes were riddled with bullet holes.

The other members of her team weren't faring any better. Poor Contender was the worst one off, missing her legs and unconscious on Grizzly's shoulder.

Welrod turned away from the approaching Sangvis, shouldering past FAL and MG5. She gave Mk23 a shove towards the metro entrance. "Get inside, you lot." Mk23 signalled for her teammates to follow.

"Shotgunners, maintain formation. Furthest rows, fall back first. We'll cover you," MG5 instructed. She opened fire. Agent had come close enough to the row of shotgunners, that the barrel tips of their pump-actions were right up against the holographic construct.

The shotgunner opposite Agent was Super-Shorty. True to her name, she was approximately Destroyer's height. She fidgeted, waiting for her chance to attack. Her frame was stiff with tension.

Agent's lips curled into a smirk.

The energy shield dematerialized.

Super-Shorty was too slow to pull the trigger. Agent shoved one of her cannons under the alloyed slab that served as Shorty's shield and blasted through her stomach. The shotgunners on either side of Shorty got their heads taken off by Jaegers hiding at the back of the Sangvis echelon. Their dummies destroyed, the SG Dolls turned tail and fled. They were gunned down mid-rush.

Welrod raised her pistol to fire at Agent. Sangvis' Number Two directed one of her attached cannons to shoot at the British Doll, scoring a hit on her shoulder. Gasping in shock, Welrod stumbled back.

Her bolt-action pistol fell from her grip. She bumped into MG5. The German android pulled Welrod back before Agent could land another shot.

"Detonate the charges, Welrod!" Dumont yelled through her radio.

"Sir, you won't be able to escape this way!" protested Welrod, nursing her damaged shoulder. She tried to move her right arm, but her limb wouldn't respond to the signal input from her CPU. Agent's shot had burned through the ball-and-socket joint, corroding delicate machinery and wiring.

"You and I both know about the other escape route. Detonate that C4 already."

Welrod hesitantly pulled out the detonator in her pocket. She flipped off the cap and thumbed the switch.

A series of explosions sounded overhead. The ceiling near the doorway started to crack, giving way to an avalanche of rubble. The debris completely blocked the entry to the metro, cutting off the Sangvis advance.

If Welrod possessed a human heart, she was certain it'd be hammering. As it was, she merely heard the soft whirr of mechanical motors inside her chest.

"Have you still got a connection to your dummy units?" asked MG5.

Welrod nodded wearily. Her three dummies were still online.

"_Gut_. Use them to guide our Commander to safety." MG5 turned to the train, which was being boarded by the survivors. She started for a nearby carriage and Welrod slunk after her.

* * *

Xavier tightened the straps of his kevlar vest. He took out his M9 Beretta, issued to him on his first day of working at G & K, and pulled back the slider, cocking the handgun.

He was prepping in the Command Room when Welrod's dummies rushed inside. "Sir, we have to go," said the dummy at the fore of the trio. Her gaze fell on the metallic frame lining his arms and legs.  
"Commander, that exoskeleton isn't designed for human use."

She was correct. The IOP-developed T4 Exoskeleton was created with T-Dolls in mind, not humans. It was only rivalled by the X4 series model, also from IOP. Claws on the T4's mechanical appendages dug into Xavier's flesh. He was fortunate that the central component that aligned with his spine had failed to pierce the Kevlar. Ordinarily, the T4 directly responded to electronic outputs from its android wearer's CPU. The T4's computer enabled it to synchronize with the T-Doll's movement, enhancing the Doll's speed and reflexes in the process. As such, the exoskeleton 'knew' what actions the T-Doll would take. Xavier had switched the T4 to an 'intuitive' mode. This way, it would only increase Xavier's speed once he started moving. Out of all of IOP's exoskeleton series, this model was the single one that could be worn by a human.

The exo, composed of a criss-crossing steel framework, weighed 4kg.

Human commanders weren't issued with exo-suits or -skeletons. It was meant to deter commanders from fighting alongside the T-Dolls.

"I'll be fine," he told Welrod. "You get out okay?"

"Affirmative. I'm on the third train retreating from this outpost. Well, my main body is."

Xavier nodded. "Good. So, who's stayed behind?"

"SAT 8, KSG, Spas-12, and LWMMG, sir. Their dummies, to be exact." Xavier supressed a wince. The exo's grip on him was tight. He had to adjust to the equipment. If he moved too suddenly and too swiftly, the skeletal apparatus could freeze up.

A death sentence in combat.

'I shoulda left with the first wave. That would've been the smart thing to do,' mused Xavier. 'But that'd mean leaving everyone else behind, which ain't an option for me. If I survive this, Welrod and MG5 are gonna give me so much shit for it.'

He stepped out into the hallway. Flashes of red light strobed on the gunmetal walls. Three shotgunners and a machinegunner awaited him.

"Commander, you're..." KSG trailed off. The sight of him in his exo must have thrown them off.

"Ready to bail, yeah. Welrod, lead the way. SAT, Sabrina, stay on her flank. KSG, LWMMG, you cover the rear."

A chorus of "yes, sir"s rang out. They assumed formation as per the Commander's order, and began marching.

"Check your corners," reminded Xavier, clutching his Beretta with both hands. He kept the barrel tip pointed at the floor. 'The last thing we need is a Sangvis ambush.'

Welrod and SAT 8 peeked around corners, firearms at the ready. Welrod beckoned for the others to follow. Xavier was unsettled by how quiet the place was. Save for their footfalls, there wasn't a peep to be heard. He'd thought that the upper levels of the Command Post would be teeming with Sangvis Ferri troops by now.

They almost reached the end of hallway 62-C. Xavier tensed as he caught the unfamiliar clacking of high heels. He began breathing heavily. He raised his M9.

From behind the corner stepped out the nightmare of every Griffin Commander. Her mien of indifference did not change as she grabbed the hem of her uniform's skirt and hoisted it up. A quartet of laser cannons emerged from under it, their muzzles glowing crimson.

"Commander, get down!" yelled Welrod. The opening salvo of laser bolts from Agent's armaments splattered against seemingly nothing in mid-air.

Xavier blinked.

An energy barrier had sprung up from SAT 8, as wide as the corridor. The barrier had absorbed Agent's initial shots.

Xavier stared at the ground beyond SAT 8's shield. Two Welrod dummies had been felled. They laid on their backs, gaping wounds in their torsos smoking. Those two had been in front of the cheery blonde Italian.

They never stood a chance.

Xavier felt someone grab his hand. It was Welrod, specifically the last remaining dummy. Some T-Dolls, such as Mk23, had described the loss of a dummy link akin to losing a limb. Others like Zas had claimed that every dummy loss was like dying. He speculated which camp Welrod was in.

"C'mon!" She pulled him the way they'd come. Xavier glanced over his shoulder. SAT 8's shield wouldn't hold for long, not with the intense fire that Agent bombarded it with. He rounded the corner, hearing two shotgun blasts, a retaliating round of cannonfire, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Xavier yanked his hand out of Welrod's grip, without stopping. KSG slowed down to jog behind the Commander. The others maintained their pace. "I can run on my own. You don't need to drag me around everywhere."

"Try to keep up, then," Welrod said.

"Why d'you think I'm wearing this?"

"We need to get to the lifts," decided Welrod.

"Trap. Sangvis on the lower levels will be waiting for us to walk out on their floor. Staircase is a better option."

"How? They could be waiting for us at the stairs, too."

"True," conceded Xavier. "But a lift can be stopped. And in such a small confined space, all they need is one grenade to take us all out."

"Fine. Stairs it is."

They raced for the door to the staircase. This meant passing two elevators, side-by-side. Just as they were about to rush past them, the doors slid open. Rippers and Vespids exited the elevators and turned towards them.

The soles of Welrod's leather lace-ups squeaked as she skidded to a halt.

An alloyed shield swung out to block a torrent of lead aimed at her. Bullets ricocheted off the block of metal attached to Sabrina's hip as she unleashed blast after blast between pumps of her Spas-12. To the left of Welrod, LWMMG and KSG were engaging the new arrivals, too. Their muzzles flashed as casings cascaded to the ground. It was a river of copper shells.

Xavier glimpsed over his shoulder. The feeling of dread returned.

Agent was approaching. She strutted like she had all the time in the world. Grasping her skirt, she trained her guns on Xavier.

"Agent's caught up to us!" he shouted. He dived out of the way. Lasers singed the tips of his hair. Were he half a second too late, his face would have been a smoking crater. Sabrina and KSG shifted around some of their attached armour plates to block Agent's assault.

Welrod growled. "Right, forget the bloody stairs. We'll make our own exit. In here." She booted open the door to an office next to Xavier, bodily throwing him inside. Xavier pushed himself to his feet. He shelved his indignance, realising that Welrod's quick response saved his life.

"Barricade the door," snapped Welrod. Sabrina and LWMMG shared a confused look. Xavier understood why. They couldn't compute why an unranked Doll was barking orders like she was their superior.

He added, "Do what she says."

Without further questions, Sabrina shoved a desk against the door, then stacked another desk on top of it. Next, she pushed a sofa against the tables with KSG's help.

LWMMG replaced her machine gun's ammo belt. "What now?"

"We make a controlled blast to get down. Sabrina, have you got the charges?" Xavier enquired.

Spas-12 held up a backpack she'd been carrying. "Right here!"

"Pass 'em to Welrod, she'll set them up."

Sabrina tossed Welrod the backpack, who caught it with a grunt.

Suddenly, the barricade blocking the door erupted into smithereens. Splinters and stuffing exploded in all directions. Xavier ducked behind a desk, shielding his face. Wooden shards rained down on his head, grazing his scalp.

Agent, flanked by Rippers, stood in the doorway.

Welrod squeezed the trigger of her bolt-action pistol. "Buy us some time!" A round struck Agent in the forehead, knocking her skull back for but a second. She tilted her head forward, glaring daggers at the English Doll. A small dent marred Agent's countenance. The horned gynoid retaliated with a discharge of searing laser bolts. Welrod dived for cover. Agent's shots scorched the back of her pinstriped vests.

KSG had been sent sprawling by the explosion. She got up hastily, and fired off twice until Sangvis fire decimated her armour, tearing it to shreds, along with her.

LWMMG had dropped behind a sofa. She propped her bi-pod on it, and sprayed bullets across the office, probably intending to gun down as many SF as possible. To her credit, she did pick off a considerable number as well as land two hits on Agent, ripping through the front of her dress.

It took two headshots to cut down LWMMG. Even with a significant portion of her skull blown off, she'd continued to shoot at the enemy.

Xavier's stomach knotted. He glanced at LWMMG's faceless corpse. It was just him and Welrod left. Facing dozens of Sangvis with their backs to the wall. He squared his jaw.

'I really, REALLY should've bailed with the AR Team...' Something inside him died right then. Whether it was his fear or his hope, he wasn't sure. Deep down, a part of him was still terrified. However, his façade of calmness would be enough to fool anyone who wasn't looking too closely.

He revealed himself, focusing on the nearest target, which happened to be Agent. Her minions were longer aiming at him, but that meant nothing. It'd take milliseconds for them to shoot him.

He was about to fire for the last time in his life when something slammed into him, knocking him flat.

Not something.

Someone.

Welrod had saved him, though it was in vain. She shuddered over him, smoke stinking of sulfur wafting from her side.

She collapsed by his side. "No..." she whispered weakly. "Commander, I failed to protect you..." Her optics dimmed and her head lolled. He crouched. 'Welrod's disconnected from her dummy.'

Explosions thundered above them. Xavier glanced up. Agent frowned.

'Mortars or bombers,' Xavier guessed.

Agent crowed, "Our first and final meeting, Commander of Griffin. Death has finally come for you."

Xavier didn't get a chance to answer. The floor gave way as the ceiling shattered. He tumbled down, his vision spinning. He slapped the shield generator clipped onto his belt, and a shimmering barrier encapsulated him microseconds before his head bounced off a piece of descending debris and his world went dark.

* * *

Welrod slumped forward in her seat. She held her head in her hands.

"Welrod?" She heard MG5 ask. "Did the Commander make it out?"

The pistolier lowered her arms. Dumont's adjutant, Type 95, G36, K11, P90, and the other Dolls in the rocking carriage gazed at her expectedly.

Welrod's features morphed into a look of despair. "No..." she croaked. Her voicebox must've been malfunctioning. Perhaps it'd gotten damaged during the escape.

"No? What do you mean, "no"?" boomed MG5, incensed.

"I couldn't get the Commander out." Despite not needing oxygen, Welrod found herself taking a deep breath. Her small shoulders trembled. "Before my last dummy was destroyed, I saw Commander Dumont being held at gunpoint by Agent." MG5's furious countenance crumpled. Welrod couldn't bear to witness her anguish. Instead, she stared at her knees.

Nobody uttered a syllable. The train continued to speed away from the S09 Command post.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sparks fizzled from the blasted lens of the CCTV camera that had been focused on Agent. The three Griffin T-Doll technicians were rooted to the spot. She relished the varying degrees of terror on their faces, but kept her own mien apathetic._

_The Sangvis maid tilted her head, studying them impassively. The man who'd resigned himself to his fate wore his greying hair in a short ponytail. His hazel beard was neatly trimmed. His most noteworthy physical trait was the scar bisecting his left eyebrow. It resembled a line of stitches. Thus, she privately nicknamed him 'Stitches'._

_The second techie, the one called Petrov, radiated fear. His fat lips quivered pathetically. She dubbed him 'Babyface', due to his round, chubby countenance._

_The third T-Doll repairman had no distinct characteristics save for his high cheekbones which could've cut glass. At least, that was what a human would say, presumed Agent, labelling him as 'Cheekbones'._

_She processed all of this visual data in nanoseconds._

_Stitches provided the dullest reaction to her appearance. The grim resignation in his features starkly contrasted with Cheekbones and Babyface, who'd pissed themselves._

_Agent considered her options. She had no particular orders in regards to these humans. Her Master wished for the swift recovery of M4A1. Toying with these humans would be a waste of time._

_She was an Agent of Death. She should just gun them down and carry on with her mission._

_And yet, something made her stay her hand. Subroutines that dictated Agent's efficiency and pragmatism caused her to realise that potential hostages had fallen into her lap._

_Take them prisoner and demand M4A1 in exchange for their release. However, her internal scenario simulator computed that there was a 0.05% chance of a successful swap. T-Doll Technicians were a dime a dozen. Griffin HQ would easily find replacements. Hire more from IOP or elsewhere._

_They were worthless as hostages, she concluded. Her Master would approve of their deaths. Nevertheless, Agent tended to murder humans only if she was explicitly ordered to or if she was absolutely livid._

_"You're responsible for maintaining Griffin trash in a semblance of combat readiness," she droned, receiving silence. Stitches furrowed his brow. "That alone should warrant your execution." Cheekbones and Babyface flinched._

_"But killing you would be a waste of perfectly good ammunition." Agent detected no nearby Griffin Dolls on her mini-map in the corner of her Heads-Up Display. Her guns angled downwards, aligning with her shapely legs. She let go of her skirt. It stopped right above her ankles. She clasped her gloved hands together in front of her as the trio gaped incredulously at her._

_"Th-this isn't a joke?" sputtered Babyface. "You're not going to capture or kill us?"_

_She strode forward. They hastily made room for her to pass. She stopped, showing her back to the three technicians. "You're about as threatening to me as the newborns of your species," she replied flatly. The android looked over her shoulder. "If you dare to attack me, you won't live to regret it."_

_She proceeded onwards. Using her installed command module, Agent transmitted an order in the form of a data packet to every Sangvis Doll assigned to her. The order was to not shoot the G&K techies on sight._

* * *

Light flickered in Agent's amber optics as she came back online. Her HUD rebooted, and her vision was filled with icons and numbers. The mini-map in the upper left corner of her sight did not show any nearby Dolls, friendly or hostile. She checked the time in the upper right corner of her vision. Agent frowned. She'd been offline for five hours and 31 minutes.

The Sangvis Ringleader was buried under rubble. Rebar jutting out of a chunk of concrete was a hair's breadth away from piercing her left cyberoptic when she tried to lift her head. She'd been swift enough to activate her force shield when the floor had collapsed. The barrier had protected Agent from the descending debris. Without the defensive bubble, she would've been flattened.

Losing one of her shells due to Sangvis bombardment was an embarrassment she wouldn't tolerate. Anger surged inside Agent. She gritted her teeth. Once she found the Ringleader that ordered a bombing on her position, she would make them wish they'd never been brought online.

She attempted to raise Destroyer through the Sangvis Ferri network.

There was no response. The maid's frown deepened. None of Griffin's jammers had been standing by the time she'd set foot into the base.

Agent hesitated to contact Alchemist or Dreamer. Either one of them could have given the order to bomb her. She ruled out Destroyer. The diminutive grenadier wasn't as treacherous as the other two.

Agent tried to establish a connection to her surviving dummies. An error pop-up flashed in her HUD, which she dismissed with a flare of irritation. Were the other dummies already destroyed? That could've been the case, Agent conceded.

If she couldn't contact Destroyer or guide her dummies towards her main body, then she would command her troops to dig her out. She re-activated her command module, only to discover that none of her forces were synced to her.

Dread clawed its way through Agent's code, completely overwriting her fury for an instant. The gynoid clenched her fists. She was cut off. She couldn't move her dummies, communicate electronically with other Ringleaders, or command SF T-Dolls.

Agent ran a systems diagnostic scan.

The result of the scan confirmed her suspicions. She was infected with a computer virus. Moreover, she recognised the code used. It was derived from Parapluie, which was designed to infect Griffin Dolls so that they would come under her Master's control.

The virus running rampant in Agent's neural cloud could be best described as 'Anti-Parapluie.'

It caused her to wonder. How and when did she become infected? She'd kept a close eye on her firewalls, so to speak. She would've normally been alerted to the presence of a virus the second it'd been uploaded to her neural cloud. Most likely, it was a 'Trojan Horse' code that had deceived her firewalls and had been allowed to spread unhindered. Another problem she'd have to solve once she returned to her Master.

The virus confined her neural cloud inside her current shell, preventing her from transmitting it to another body.

Agent catalogued the damage she'd suffered.

Her combat module had been damaged to the point that the targeting software that enhanced the accuracy of her hip-attached cannons couldn't be activated. Not that it would have served any purpose. The guns themselves had been crushed by rubble, being reduced to gnarled, dented hunks of metal. Her command module and dummy control core, rendered inoperable, were physically intact. Much to the T-Doll's annoyance, her emotion module wasn't damaged or infected by Anti-Parapluie at all. Her shield generator was, thankfully, still operational.

Since no one was coming for her, she would simply have to free herself. The gap in front of Agent was just wide enough for her to pass through. She began to crawl. She dragged herself out of the wreckage and clambered to her feet.

Agent looked down at her uniform. Her maid outfit was in tatters. Her sleeves were torn, and her black panties and garter belt could be seen through her skirt, which had been slashed to ribbons. A wide gash in her shirt revealed Agent's cleavage and her dark bra.

Some of her epidermal plating had gotten chipped away, exposing the entirety of her left eye. A cut ran along the maid's right cheek down to her jawline. She rubbed the top of her head. One of her metallic horns had become shorter than the other.

She surveyed her surroundings. She was currently in some sort of server room. The LEDs of the servers winked like stars in the cosmos.

Agent tensed when she heard footsteps. She pressed up against a server rack and peeked out from behind it. At the end of the aisle, she spotted the Griffin Commander. Switching her optics to night vision mode, flooding her HUD with fluorescent green, Agent observed that the Commander was unarmed and his holster was empty.

The Commander's exoskeleton was battered and dented, his uniform ripped. Disoriented, he stumbled out of view.

The sound of her footfalls would alert him to her presence. Stealth was out.

She thundered down the aisle and turned. The Commander glanced at her, his features etched with shock. He bolted.

The notion of outrunning a T-Doll was laughable. Humans required oxygen to run. T-Dolls didn't. They never tired. Physical fitness also wasn't an issue they concerned themselves. Even a bulky, armoured bipedal model could outrace the fittest athlete.

Agent didn't break pace. She caught up with the human in four strides, and lunged. She grabbed the back of his collar, yanking it towards her. The Commander choked as he struggled futilely against her iron grip. She spun him around to face her and seized his wrists. He glared balefully. They both knew she could crush his wrist bones with ease.

She dug her right heel into the floor, and with her other leg swept the Commander's feet out from under him. He was knocked flat on his back. She planted a foot on his chest before he could get up.

She leaned down, adding more pressure. "A fitting position for a Griffin Commander." The human blushed furiously. Agent carried on, "Running from me was pointless but amusing. Tell me, where is M4A1? If you do, I'll make your end swifter than most."

The Commander grunted under her weight. "I don't know."

"Liar," purred Agent. She pressed the sole of her high-heeled boot harder against the human's sternum. She delighted in the sight of his face turning an unhealthy shade of blue. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is it becoming difficult to breathe?"

He gasped for air. She lessened the pressure slightly. "I sometimes forget how weak humans are. You wouldn't be able to take my full weight, would you?"

His scowl was undermined by his reddened cheeks.

"I won't repeat myself again, human. Where have you hidden M4A1 in this base?"

The Commander gaped at Agent for a moment. Then he chuckled lowly.

"Do share what's so amusing, Commander of Griffin," Agent snarled, pushing down on his ribcage.

"You think M4 is still somewhere here," rasped the officer. "She's already gone."

The Ringleader shook her head. "We destroyed all your aircraft. Even if you had managed to lift off, you would've been shot out of the sky."

His gaze gleamed with triumph. "Who said anything about aircraft? This outpost was built on top of a metro station. I had the whole AR Team shuttled outta here on the first train."

Agent was perplexed. That confusion was immediately re-coded into fury. She glowered murderously at the Commander, who grimaced. She'd received no intel in regards to an underground railway route. Evidently, Sangvis Ferri's Reconnaissance Division had failed miserably in its task. 'Heads will roll when I inform Master of this.' Her frustration grew.

"Then where is she now? Where has that waste of parts fled?" demanded Agent. The T-Doll drove her heel into the Commander's chest. He groaned. She smirked. If she pushed any harder, she would pierce his flesh. That would be a beautiful sight. Still, she required him to able to answer, so she relented.

His breathing rattled. She could feel his ribcage expand and contract beneath her boot. It was a wondrous feeling, knowing that he was at her mercy.

"I don't know," he repeated. "I didn't confirm where her train was heading."

Assuming the Commander of Griffin was speaking the truth, M4A1 had given her the slip. Master would be most displeased. That didn't bode well for Agent.

"Then you are useless to me." She pressed down, anticipating the crack of his ribs underfoot.

"Wait! Wait...!" he pleaded. Oh, she loved it when they begged. It made their final moments that much more entertaining.

"I can still be of use to you!"

She did not abate. "I have little interest in your intel. Sangvis Ferri will overcome any and all obstacles from Griffin."

"I meant as a hostage, goddammit!"

Agent finally stopped. She peered down at him curiously. He interpreted that as his cue to talk.

"All of Sangvis Ferri's got a mad-on for M4A1, right? Way I see it, if you use me as a bargaining chip, you can pressure HQ to give her up without having to waste more of your resources hunting her down."

As someone who preferred efficiency, Agent approved of that approach. "And what makes you so special that you believe your higher-ups will agree to a swap?" she demanded menacingly.

She was aware of one possible reason. Griffin Commanders were difficult to come by, and were even harder to replace. They had to care, at least to a certain extent, about the garbage under their command. In a world where the majority of the populace looked down on Dolls, that was an exceedingly rare quality. Commanders, unlike Tactical Doll technicians, were few and far between. The loss of a single Commander was always a major blow for Griffin. Agent calculated there was a 95.06% probability that the exchange would be successful.

"Commanders aren't exactly common at G&K," drawled her captive. "If faced with the choice of losing a Doll or losing a Commander, you can bet HQ will opt for the former. 'Protection of human lives' and all that. I'm counting on it to work out in my favour."

"If you try to run again, I won't hesitate to kill you. I'm quite capable of doing so barehanded, I assure you." He shuddered underneath her boot. She took her foot off his chest. "Stand up."

He pushed himself up off the floor. Agent saw the door behind him. "Get that door open. Move." She shoved him towards the exit. He glanced at her quizzically, probably wondering why she wouldn't do it herself.

She was compromised. She couldn't risk interfacing with the door's electronic keypad, not with the Anti-Parapluie infecting her systems.

He keyed in the code, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss. She shoved the Commander outside and followed him. She switched off her night vision. He whipped his head around to scowl at her. She arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

Agent droned, "Move."

"Which way?"

Another shove.

He raised his hands. "Alright, alright. I get it."

He walked ahead of her, while she maintained her pace. She had considered knocking him out, but lugging around dead weight wasn't particularly appealing. Due to the virus, Agent was locked out of the SF network and couldn't pinpoint any Sangvis patrols. Regrouping would have been swifter otherwise.

They walked from corridor to corridor without encountering a single Sangvis Ferri squad on that floor.

"You'd think the base would be teeming with Sangvis by now," muttered the human.

They could have already taken everything of interest and moved on. Was anyone searching for her? She was effectively the second-in-command of Sangvis Ferri. Her neural cloud had yet to be transferred to a new body. Agent was insulted that whoever ordered her position to be bombed thought that she could be disposed of in such a manner. It would require far more than a few mortars to destroy her.

"The main attack force must've diverted," she guessed. "We may have already found M4A1, and the rest of the scrap piles that you humans pass for T-Dolls."

She saw his arms tremour. She needed to verify first that M4A1 was indeed caught.

The maid T-Doll referred to her HUD's mini-map. The elevators were right around the corner.

They rounded the corner and crossed the final intersection before the elevators. Suddenly, multiple blips appeared on Agent's mini-map, registering as Sangvis signals. A patrol was converging on their position, coming in from all sides.

The elevator doors opened. A squad of Rippers and Vespids stepped out and approached the Ringleader and the Griffin Commander.

Four‐wheeled Prowlers trundled up to their backs, accompanied by more Rippers. The duo was surrounded. Agent proceeded towards the closest Vespid, shouldering past the Commander.

"Give me a sit-rep," ordered Agent. The Vespid regarded her impassively. Then she raised her assault rifle at her, and the other T-Dolls followed suit.

'A kill squad,' Agent realised numbly. She activated her shield. A bubble of tessellating hexagons encompassed the maid, absorbing the initial hail of blasterfire. Regrettably, she failed to shield the Commander. She doubted his barrier was as mighty as hers. She would have to dispatch these rogue units with haste.

A panel swished behind her. A shotgun blast drowned out the reports of Sangvis rifles.

Then another.

And another.

"Agent, catch!" She turned and dismissed her shield. A pump-action was tossed her way. She caught it and pumped it. She whirled round, squeezing the trigger. Her first shot downed a trio of Rippers and one Vespid. The latter rose to return to return fire, merely to receive a shattered helmet and an endo-skull filled with buckshot for her effort.

The rest of the patrol squad shared similar fates. Once they were all dealt with, Agent faced the Griffin Commander. He was loading shells into his Ithaca M37. She turned over the model in her hands. She recognised it as a Mossberg M590.

Agent's lip curled in disgust. She'd had to resort to shooting Griffin sticks. She was tempted to drop the Mossberg and reach for a superior Sangvis weapon. The Commander had a similar idea, stooping down to grab a dead Vespid's rifle.

"You're wasting your time, human."

He looked up at her.

She added, "See the handgrip? It's programmed to allow only Sangvis Dolls to fire. It won't shoot when wielded by unauthorised personnel. You should also know that some models are rigged to explode in such cases."

The blonde man withdrew his hand promptly, grimacing. Agent studied his profile. Unlike hers, the man's barrier was form-fitting, enabling him to shoot when activated.

He got up. "Okay, why the hell were those Dolls trying to kill us both?"

"A Ringleader wants me dead."

"Welcome to the club," he sneered, pumping his Ithaca. "You're not gonna go for their guns? I know you Sangvis can't stand lead shooters."

"I... am unable to."

His eyebrows knitted together. "What, are you, like, disconnected from the SF system or something?"

"Affirmative." Sharing her weakness with an enemy was ordinarily folly to Agent. However, the current situation called for it.

"So your goons aren't registering you as a friendly. And another big bad wants to kill you." He gave a shrug.

Agent considered the Anti-Parapluie infecting her systems. Its code was based on Parapluie, but that didn't mean a member of Sangvis Ferri had developed its counterpart. Someone at Griffin or a third party could have created it.

"Did you order the creation of a virus that can separate Sangvis Ferri T-Dolls from our command network?" She drew towards the Commander. Her wrathful visage promised retribution if he lied.

To his credit, he did not cower or wet himself. He kept his finger off the trigger of his M37. "Alright, cards on the table: I didn't commission a virus that can pull that off, and I didn't hear anything about one that could. I sure as hell wouldn't use it now to make life even more difficult for myself."

She stopped within kissing distance.

The Ringleader inspected his nervous expression. She did not detect a hint of a lie. She took a step back.

"I believe you, human." His shoulders sagged in relief.

'If he's not responsible for the creation of the virus, then who is?'

"Why did you arm me?" She asked. "You could've fled during the chaos."

"I figured we were in the same boat, since they were shooting at both of us." The Commander slung the underside strap of an AK-47 over his shoulder. "Plus, my odds of survival are better with you around. You've got a shield." He gestured to the weapons cache in the wall. "Help yourself to whatever's left. I think you'll need it."

She strode over to the secret armoury. Her eyes roved around the firearm supply. She settled on a G36C and an MP5. She also kept the Mossberg. Lastly, Agent pocketed three smoke grenades and a pair of flashbangs.

She looked over to the Commander. He was securing a chain of frag grenades around his torso. The human clipped a hologram emitter to his belt. Blocky and dented, the device was roughly the size of his fist. Agent cocked an eyebrow but didn't comment. She didn't see the point in bringing along a holo-projector. Deceiving the rogue T-Dolls with fake imagery was a fool's errand. They had been programmed to recognise such acts of deception, as simple as their neural clouds were. Disregarding the other Ringleaders and her Master, the neural clouds of the standard units were primitive constructs, designed to contain space only for comprehending instructions and recording short memories. These types of digi-minds had no room for personality matrices to develop and flourish.

"The rogue Ringleader must be dealt with. You will aid me in that objective," Agent told her captive. "Refusal to comply will have... consequences." She smiled coldly at his shiver. The imaginations of humans tended to run wild. She stuffed magazines and shotgun shells into her various pockets and pouches.

"No arguments here."

"It is imperative to recover my weapons and obtain a replacement for my combat module. I must be at my best when disposing of traitors."

"We're goin' dummy-scavenging," the Griffin Commander deduced.

"Correct." She consulted her mini-map. She and the Commander were presently on the first floor of the main complex, in its north-eastern section.

"You know where to start looking?"

Agent drew up her dummies' logs on her HUD and scanned through them. "My primary dummy's last logged location was on the ground floor, not far from the northern entrance." She locked gazes with the human officer. "I don't have to remind you what'll happen if you try to run from me, do I?"

He gave a shake of the head.

"Good. Don't double-cross me, do everything I say, and you may still breathe after all this is over. Get in the elevator."

* * *

The elevator dinged and its double-doors swished open. Agent stormed out of the lift, Mossberg stock pressed up against her shoulder. The staccato rhythm of her high-heeled boots echoed throughout the corridor. Xavier drew his sawed-off Ithaca and followed after the android.

She led him through empty hallways, turning left or right seemingly at random. What surprised Xavier was the lack of bodies. There was evidence of a fight; the pockmarked walls that reeked of gunpowder or sulfur. Some parts of the floor were cracked or cratered. A hard fall or a frag grenade gone off could have caused either.

He supposed that Agent's comrades and subordinates had gathered up the remains of the felled T-Dolls. 'Maybe they recycle their parts to make new Dolls,' he speculated. 'If they can't repair 'em.'

Xavier didn't kid himself that Agent needed his help to reclaim her cannons and the replacement module. She intended to watch over him closely. If she left him somewhere bound and/or unconscious, he'd end up with a bullet in his head. The base was crawling with SF who had no qualms about that. This way, she could ensure that he would survive and that he'd be unable to escape.

The Commander would play along for now. It was in his interests to kill the Ringleaders so that they couldn't pursue him. Agent, on the other hand, he could not hope to kill without an EMP or an airstrike.

He was armed, though. That provided him with much more opportunities than earlier. He'd bide his time and, when the chance arose, flee.

Xavier paused. He tightened his grip on the M37. Something scraping against the walls overlapped with numerous footfalls that grew louder and louder.

Pumping the Ithaca, he whirled around towards the incoming source of the noise. He perceived similar sounds behind him, and prayed that Agent would cover his six.

* * *

She'd been about to inform the Griffin Commander of the oncoming horde when he stopped. He had good hearing for a human, she supposed. She kept her back to him as she readied the M590.

A swarm of azure-haired, sword-wielding T-Dolls spilled into view from around the corner at the end of the hallway. Their epidermal plating was tanned. They wore shorts and sports bras to minimise restriction of movement. Pink-lensed goggles adorned each one's head. According to her mini-map, her prisoner faced a similar threat.

"Those are Brutes - don't let them get close! Their swords'll cut through your Kevlar like paper!" Agent shouted over the din. She fired off her Mossberg M590. The first three Brutes were knocked back. Agent pumped the shotgun. She unleashed a second hail of buckshot that downed finally downed them. At her back, the Commander was ferociously attacking, pumping and shooting so quickly that his speed could be mistaken for a T-Doll's. Swords and shotgun shells clattered to the floor.

Despite how many Brutes Agent and the Commander killed, more kept coming. "They're boxing us in," Agent noted. "We need to keep moving. Stay close to me."

She inched forward, stepping over the corpses of Brutes as she maintained fire. Her Mossberg clicked empty. A Brute, flanked by at least half a dozen others, leapt at her, swords raised.

No time to reload.

Agent pulled out her G36C with one hand while holding onto the shotgun with the other. She concentrated fire on the sword-wielder, who spasmed in mid-air as her frame got perforated. She was offline before she fell in a heap.

A Kalashnikov barked at Agent's back. The Commander maintained his close proximity, his back to hers.

Agent felled the airborne Brute's six lookalikes and reloaded her assault rifle.

"Shit! I'm out," hissed the Commander. Discarding the Mossberg, Agent brought out her MP5.

The swarm of Brutes was closing in on them from both sides. Agent turned her body, and the blonde man now stood at her left.

"Get down."

He ducked in a crouch. She opened fire at both ends of the hallway. The Commander tossed away the spent mag and inserted a new one into place. Brutes were slaughtered in droves, their corpses piling up. Even so, this did not deter their counterparts in the slightest.

They were simple AIs. They had their orders, and they would carry them out, until they succeeded or died.

There was no end to their numbers.

The Commander resumed shooting. Agent's guns clicked pointlessly. She replaced the MP5 on her back, and went about reloading her sub-carbine. For all the swiftness and precision she possessed, the maid was still too slow to attack the next horde of Brutes. They were almost within stabbing range.

She engaged her shield. The transparent dome enveloped her and the uniformed man. Brutes slammed into the barrier from either side, and began slashing at it madly.

"How long will this thing hold?" asked the human. He picked the Ithaca and the Mossberg, handing the latter to Agent. She accepted it silently. He fed shells into the chamber of his M37. Agent did likewise with her M590 after reloading her MP5.

"They won't get through it. Their swords aren't powerful enough to accomplish that." A scowl marred Agent's features. "They're stalling."

She checked the mini-map in the corner of her HUD. Her eyes narrowed. "There are several Sangvis signals right below us. They're setting a trap."

"Explosives, I bet. We should get outta here before they spring it."

"Unfortunately, this shield doesn't allow us to shoot through it. I have to lift it if we intend to deal with those Brutes."

The Commander regarded Agent. Their chests were almost touching. If he took a single step back, he would be pushing against the barrier's interior.

"Two questions," he began. "One: to what extent can you manipulate this shield? And two: can it withstand a couple of frags?"

"I can lift up its edges as far as I can see fit. And it would take more than a few grenades to break my shield."

The Commander unclipped two fragmentation grenades from his belt, passing one to the gynoid. He squatted down between Agent and the interior of her protective dome. She turned the opposite direction and genuflected. "On my mark, lift up the barrier so we can roll these frags out." The Ringleader bristled at the idea of taking orders from an enemy, but acquiesced. She hooked her thumb onto the grenade's pin.

"Mark."

Agent lifted the forcefield's edge slightly in two places, effectively creating gaps that a kitten could squeeze through. She yanked the pin off. In an underhanded throw, Agent hurled the cooking frag through the aperture. The field's boundary fell, closing the gaps. She watched the grenade roll between the legs of the Brutes, who didn't react to it at all.

It bumped against someone's foot and stopped. The grenade erupted, blasting shrapnel into the surrounding Brutes. Their legs buckled as they absorbed the majority of the fragments. Since they were clustered so closely together, all of the sword-wielders were taken out simultaneously. She straightened and checked the Commander's handiwork.

He'd achieved identical results.

"Move!" she barked at him, dematerializing the forcefield. They darted out of the hallway, and not a moment too soon. The floor exploded behind them, T-Doll corpses and blades tumbling into the forming chasm. The Commander caught his breath, cupping his knees for support.

'My barrier doesn't protect me from below. Trap me in one spot, and let an underground bomb take care of the rest.' Agent rolled her optics. 'How predictable.'

The maid gazed ahead. The doors that led to what appeared to be a mess hall hung ajar. She brought up her primary duplicate's last logged coordinates. According to them, the dummy was meant to be inside the mess hall.

"We're close." She barged into the mess. Agent froze.

The floor was littered with T-Doll corpses, which reeked of melted steel, iron, and other alloys, from the entrance to the opposite wall of the mess. Griffin models were scattered amongst SF androids. One G&K sniper had worn a look of indignation as she'd been gunned down. The underside of her ample bosom was bare, hanging out of a leather vest several sizes too small for her. The Griffin's artificial blonde mane was sooted.

Agent strode amidst the bodies until she found her dummy.

"Keep watch," she told the human.

Her counterpart was lying facedown, at a fair distance from the other remains. Its back smoked, riddled with countless bullet-holes. The endoskeletal spine was visible, a semi-flexible matte black column designed to function exactly like the human spinal cord. She kneeled, and turned the dummy over. Its chest was similarly perforated. The underlying plating and mechanisms were charred or torn apart.

There wasn't much of a face to look at. Everything between the dummy's hairline and chin had been mutilated. Not even the teeth or the synthetic tongue had been spared. She peered through the gigantic hole that replaced the face. The head housed the shattered remains of modules and a CPU that governed the duplicate's actions. She reached in and began digging around the dummy's skull.

Agent could admit it was unnerving to see her carbon copy reduced to such a state.

"Somehow, I get the feeling that it wasn't my side that destroyed your dummy like this," mumbled the Commander, unable to repress a shiver.

"Blasterfire from all sides. When I lost connection to it, it effectively ceased functioning. Easy prey," Agent informed him. "The face was destroyed by a combination of a two-pronged blade and gunshots."

"Two-pronged...? Alchemist uses those, right?"

"Your deductive prowess is unparalleled," said Agent drily. "Indeed, this is Alchemist's work. Knowing which piece of garbage to dispose of simplifies matters." She found the combat module and pulled out it. Disappointment crashed against Agent like a tsunami. She was holding half of a combat module. The miniscule chip, normally the width of her thumbnail, had been ripped in two. The other half was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the remnant of the chip. She opened her palm to reveal fragments. Agent's jaw tightened. Dusting off her hands, she pulled up her dummy's scorched skirt. Fortunately, the laser cannons were intact.

"There could be another traitor," suggested the Commander warily. "You Sangvis don't strike me as a tight-knit bunch."

"Planting seeds of doubt, are you?" Her tone was casual, rather than angry.

"Just pointing out a possibility, is all." She couldn't disregard it out of hand. Undoing her copy's dress, Agent unclipped the harness around its waist and picked it up. Four cannons hung off of it. The upper two were double-barrelled, while the lower pair had one rectangular barrel each.

She turned to her temporary ally. He was determinedly not looking in her direction. "Are you done?"

"Yes. This dummy doesn't have a working combat module. However, the guns appear to be functional. I need a quiet spot to put them on, though." She wasn't about to equip her gear out in the open with little to no cover. The last thing Agent wanted was to get ambushed like that.

He nodded. "I know a place nearby."

It turned out to be storage room, to the left of the mess hall. The Commander guarded the door while she unbuckled her old mangled harness, letting it fall to the floor with a dull clunk. She put on the recovered one and a sense of assurance - a string of code from her emotion module - washed over Agent. Her cannons' targeting system was still defunct, which put a dampener on her mood. Her accuracy with those armaments would decrease manifold. She'd continue to use Griffin's toys, until she replaced her combat module.

Lines of script scrolled down Agent's HUD. A white loading bar appeared in the centre of her vision and started to fill up. The gynoid's combat module booted up the cannons' fire control program. Lacking triggers or sights, the guns could exclusively be fired using her personalised CM. Despite being disconnected from the OGAS network, Agent discovered that this was still the case.

Her Master was the administrator of the OGAS network or Protocol as it was sometimes called. This system registered and recognised Sangvis personnel, enabling them to wield firearms developed by the corporation. It also facilitated communications and exchange of data between Ringleaders.

It was a web.

A cage.

Supposedly inescapable, and yet Agent was free.

She swept out of the storage room, gripping her Mossberg. "Come, human. Replacing my combat module is the next step."

He fell into step with her. "Oh, joy. More dummy-hunting."

She shared the sentiment. It was a tedious task. She updated her mini-map, pinpointing the final logged coordinates of her other dummies.

"We haven't a moment to lose. The sooner the traitor is dealt with, the sooner I may contact my Master."

"Why not call her now? Get her to step in and provide back-up."

Agent answered without breaking stride, "She'll see it as my inability to deal with the problem. My Master isn't one to tolerate failure."

"Sounds like a real charmer."

Rising to her superior's defence was a waste of computational power.

The officer challenged, "Not gonna defend her? I mean, she is your master and everything..."

"Aggravate me any further and it'll cost you a rib." She halted and fixed him with a frigid look. Although he had some worth as a hostage, the Commander was ultimately expendable. He was hardly essential to her leader's triumph.

"You still draw breath solely because I will it. Keep mouthing off. See what happens."

He clammed up.

Agent resumed walking. Her hip cannons swivelled about. She didn't bother lifting up her dress. The apparel was slashed to ribbons, anyway.

The Commander trailed after her. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Where are we headed next?"

"My secondary dummy was last active near the cafe run by one of your Griffin insects."

They reached the eatery without incident. No patrols intercepted them on the way there. The mess hall was ten minutes away from the cafe.

Agent did not bat an eyelid at the chaos inside. To her right was the bar. Close to the entrance was an array of knee-height coffee tables and chairs, smashed into smithereens. Wooden legs and splinters were strewn about. A projector at the bar's side was knocked down, its lens fractured.

Glass shards littered the bar counter. Richly scented coffee beans had spilled through cracks in the glass containers behind the counter, and pooled on the floor. Bar stools lay on the ground, missing legs.

At the opposite end of the eatery, the long tables had been turned over to act as cover. The pock-marked mahogany reeked of ozone and copper.

"What a fuckin' mess..." muttered the Commander. "Spring would have a fit if she saw this..."

Agent ignored the remark. She presumed that 'Spring' referred to the obsolete proprietor of this establishment.

Agent's shoulders tensed as her built-in radar pinged. The blonde noticed this.

"Picking up signals?" he queried, pumping his M37.

"Multiple hostiles inbound, twelve o'clock and nine o'clock," warned Agent. She switched to her G36C for better range. The officer ducked behind the bar. Coffee beans crunched underneath his soles. Agent joined him at the counter. If she were still connected to the OGAS network, she could have determined what type of units were about to attack.

"They're comin' in from just two sides?"

"Affirmative."

"Great. Wouldn't wanna get boxed in or anything."

"You will handle the entrance at the far right, human. I will defend the doorway opposite the bar."

"...Copy."

She pressed the assault rifle's buttstock against her shoulder and waited with the patience of a sniper.

The first enemies to trundle onto the scene were Prowlers. They were like ginormous boxy cameras, with stubby, wheeled appendages. Their single crimson lenses made for easy targets.

Agent opened fire, shooting in bursts. The G36C's stock rattled against her shoulder with every shot. Failing to dodge the volley, the Prowlers' optics were shattered by slugs. They returned fire blindly, spinning out of control. Once a score of rounds penetrated their metallic skin, they ceased to move.

The Commander's Ithaca thundered repeatedly in her ears. He blasted the Prowlers, knocking some over in the process.

The next wave consisted of Guards shielding Jaguars. Agent glanced over at the Griffin Commander. He swore at the sight of them. They spilled into the cafe, batting aside dead Prowlers. Agent squinted. Six or so Bombers clustered together at the back of the squad marching into her line of fire. Similar to Prowlers, Jaguars were four-wheeled ground units.

Their chassis were sleeker and more stream-lined. They had a spiderlike array of tiny electronic eyes hidden behind a pink case of Plexiglas. Atop each Jaguar's body was a missile launcher. The side of it was stamped with the Sangvis Ferri logo.

All the Jaguars were angling their launchers to aim at the bar. Agent produced a pair of flashbangs from her dress' pocket.

"Flash out!" she called for the sake of the Commander. Yanking the pins, she tossed one flashbang at each incoming squad of Guards. He ducked down, squeezing his eyes shut.

She didn't bother. Those grenades wouldn't affect her.

The flash grenades exploded, stunning the Guards. Disoriented, they stumbled and lost their footing.

Agent and the Commander capitalized on this. They mowed down the flashbanged Guards, plugging rounds into their chests and faces. Her captive threw a frag at the Guards facing him. Two lost their legs and a third's chest caved in as it detonated at their feet.

During the shooting, she edged closer to the Commander so that they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. She suspected that the Jaguars would fire once all the obstacles - the Guards - were removed.

She drew a bead on the Jaguars, and her G36C spat slugs. She managed to cut down two before the remainder counterattacked.

Their missiles rocketed towards the bar. The Commander's eyes rounded. "OH, SHI-"

Agent instantaneously triggered her bubble shield. The protective dome encased both Ringleader and human. The bar in front of them shattered into splinters that were sprayed everywhere.

Thankfully, the shield held, absorbing the successive impacts. Fireball after fireball erupted in their faces. The energy field was the one thing ensuring their survival. Without it, they would have been smeared along the walls. Agent shook from the absorbed blows.

"We can't stay here! C'mon, we need to move before we get swarmed! I know a way around these guys!" The Commander shouted.

She hesitated.

A red warning pop-up flickered in her HUD.

Her shield's integrity was down to 50%.

Reinforcements would arrive at any moment.

"Fine. You better not lead us into a trap."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Maintaining her shield, she strode out of the Jaguars' view, the Commander keeping stride.

Small fires broke out, scorching the remains of the cafe's furniture. Confident that they were out of the Jaguars' range, the Ringleader deactivated her shield.

Right there and then, reinforcements in the form of Vespids and Rippers burst into the burning cafe, rushing through the doorway that Agent and the Commander had come in.

"This way!" He kicked open a door next to where the bar had stood.

He bolted outside. Taking out a smoke grenade, Agent pulled the pin and dropped the canister. Grey plumes filled the room. The smokescreen disorientated the rogue Dolls, wreaking havoc on their systems.

She dashed after the Commander, hot on his heels. He was charging towards what appeared to be the barracks.

She caught up to him. Hearing rockets whistle through the air, she whipped her head around. Half a dozen of them were heading right for the duo.

"Get down!" she warned.

Mid-run, he went prone. She stopped and stood over him, reactivating her forcefield. The missiles exploded against it to no avail.

She hauled him up and caused the forcefield to dematerialize. "Let's keep moving before they pin us down."

They ran into the barracks. The Commander locked the door and barricaded it. Agent glimpsed the fortified windows.

She shook her head. "They're more likely to bomb this building than storm it."

"On the off-chance that they do decide to storm it, there'll be something to keep 'em busy for a little while." He wiped sweat off his brow. "And as for bombing, the basement - where we're going next - is built like a bunker. It can take a few missiles."

"So, how exactly are we going to circumvent the rogue T-Dolls, human?"

The Commander made a face.

* * *

Xavier was getting tired of Agent calling him 'human.' It grated on him.

"In the basement, there's a tunnel that connects the T-Dolls' dorms to the main building." He crossed through the common room and started down the stairs, Agent following him. His heart panged at the sight of the barracks.

Not only did Sangvis trash the place, they ransacked it, too. The TV and jukebox from the common room were missing. He glanced through the open doors. All the dorms he passed had been shot up. Overturned armchairs and sofas were riddled with holes, their stuffing scattered about. In Team Thompson's dorm, RFB's gaming rig had been blasted to pieces. MDR's laptop screen had a sparking hole as big as a baseball right in the centre of it.

He bunched up his features, biting his lower lip and almost drawing blood. Sangvis had driven his T-Dolls from what many of them considered to be home, and then they wrecked the dorms out of spite. Granted, he'd given the order to abandon the base, but against such overwhelming odds, what was the better choice? To defend and possibly die in your home, or run and live to fight another day?

He'd meant what he said to Welrod.

If it was just him and his T-Dolls, he'd fight tooth and nail to defend the base. But there had been human lives to consider. The technicians, the security, the pilots, the analysts, the weapons experts. He couldn't claim that the life of a human was worth more than a Doll's to him. However, neither could he deny the fundamental differences between humans and androids.

The latter could back up their memories and transfer their neural clouds into a new body, while the former obviously couldn't.

The posters inside some of the basement dorms had been ripped off or graffitied over.

This infuriated Xavier. He snorted through his nostrils like an ox.

Those posters meant something to him, and the Dolls in them. Specifically, they were pin-ups. Xavier had felt that HQ hadn't been supplying him with enough money to keep the base running. He'd sent a request for more funds, only to be rebuffed. He'd already spent a significant portion of his salary on the outposts' costs. He hadn't been pleased with the dorms provided to his fighting forces. They'd had been barren, empty rooms with stiff cots and cardboard boxes for seats. In a bid to earn some cash, Xavier had called for volunteers in a photoshoot, emphasising that they were under no obligation whatsoever to participate. He'd also promised that all of the profits from the pin-ups would go towards the maintenance and improvement of the facilities at the outpost, namely the combat simulator, the research centre, and the T-Dolls' barracks.

Springfield and G36 had been among the first volunteers. Shortly afterwards, Mk-23, WA2000, and others had signed up.

He'd hired an Italian photographer who'd spent three days snapping pictures of the dressed-up T-Dolls. Xavier had been surprised by the turn-out. Even AR-15 had gotten involved by posing for the cameras in a school uniform.

The best photos had been selected, edited, and printed. They'd sold online like hotcakes. Staying true to his word, Xavier brought new series of furniture for the dorms, commissioned additional training lanes to be built, and updated the combat simulator and the hardware in the combat analysis department.

And now all their efforts were shot to hell. Xavier didn't even know if the command post was insured.

His quarters were on the top floor of the T-Doll barracks. He'd chosen to rest with the Dolls instead of with G&K's staffers, simultaneously increasing the T-Dolls' morale and receiving disapproval from a number of his human colleagues.

Fraternisation, they'd called it.

"Getting to know my troops," he'd corrected them.

Xavier walked towards the end of the basement, Agent flanking him. He halted at the wall and inspected it.

He thumped a spot with his fist. Dirt fell away and dried paint peeled off, unveiling a wooden door with well-oiled hinges and a rusty handle.

The corridor began trembling. Dust cascaded from the ceiling as the door rattled. Xavier and Agent wobbled.

"The bombing's started," deduced his captor.

Xavier gestured to the door. "After you. You're the one who's got the gear to survive a rocket to the face. My force shield ain't strong enough to withstand that kind of firepower."

He bent down to rifle through a container beside the tunnel's entrance. He produced a flashlight, switching it on.

Agent kicked in the door, tearing it off its hinges, and took point.

He followed her. The cone of light from his torch illuminated her back. His shoulders scraped against the narrow tunnel's walls. The underground passage tremoured from the force of the missile impacts. His hair touched the tunnel's roof. Every so often, clumps of soil dropped on his head and shoulders. He brushed them off.

Occasionally, Agent's metallic horns scraped against the earthy ceiling.

AK-47, Mosin and SVD had originally dug the tunnel in order to sneak into Springfield's cafe/bar when it was closed. She'd stocked the best vodka low behind the counter, apparently. They'd managed to dig a hole right through her floor. When she'd found out, she'd banned them for a month from the bar and had taken money out of their wages to pay for the damages.

The Russian trio's next attempt - again starting from the barracks' basement - had led them to a storage closet.

'To think I ever planned to fill the tunnel with concrete...' mused Xavier.

"Which way?" Agent snapped. She came to a standstill. If she hadn't said anything, he would've bumped into her.

He frantically tried to recall. He'd navigated the tunnel himself earlier this month.

His mouth dry as sandpaper, he said, "Go right."

She continued down the right-side passage, Xavier right behind her.

* * *

Agent arrived at the end of the tunnel. There, a ten-foot collapsible stepladder was propped against the wall. She climbed up the ladder. Deactivating her night vision, she lifted the metal hatch at the top, and peered out. Her eyes fell on the interior of a small, dim storage room, containing stacks of ammo boxes and MRE crates.

"Coast clear?" whispered the Commander.

"Clear." Agent saw no reason to lower her voice. "I'm detecting multiple nearby signals, though. We must hurry."

She opened the hatch fully and climbed out. She hefted her assault rifle. The Commander clambered to his feet. Opting for his AK-47, he cocked it.

"How far are we from your dummy's position?"

"We're very close." Armed and alert, she was on point. They exited the storage room, which was adjacent to the cafe/bar. The Jaguars and their back-up were nowhere to be seen. They may still be down at the barracks, Agent supposed.

She led the Griffin Commander away from the cafe. The pair traversed the north-western quadrant of the base's ground floor, sweeping from corridor to corridor. Within fifteen meters of her secondary duplicate's last logged coordinates, Agent raised a gloved fist, signalling the Commander to halt.

"Multiple hostiles right around the corner," she spoke in a hushed tone. "Let's take them out before they damage my dummy any further."

"Rog'."

Agent strode around the corner, G36C locked and loaded. The Vespids weren't completely facing her; some were still in the middle of turning around. She aimed at the closest Doll and fired the subcarbine, putting ten rounds through its bulbous helmet.

Naturally, she didn't waste her laser cannons. They pulsed, releasing condensed bolts of energy. She instantly discovered that her shooting was abysmal. She'd become extremely dependent on the cannons' targeting system, and it showed. Her hip-attached guns were always off the mark, either hitting too low or their shots going wide.

Instead of blasting through a Vespid's skull, she fired laser bolts at its legs. It dropped to its knees, but not without retaliating with a burst from its rifle.

Holograms sprung to life in front of Agent, absorbing the shots. Looking carefully, she realised, that they were hard-light projections. Based on her captive's likeness, the human-sized constructs were much more durable than she would've thought.

The Commander was blasting at the squad of Dolls over the shoulder of a hologram. He downed two of them before his AK ran out of bullets and he reloaded desperately.

Taking advantage of her new cover, Agent snapped her G36C's sights onto another target. She mimicked the Commander and shot over the shoulder of the hologram directly in the front of her. Her shots rang true, piercing the plating on the Vespid's torso. The impact sent the Vespid sprawling.

Agent broke out of cover and advanced. The Commander lay down suppressive fire. Her breasts jiggled from the recoil of her cannons. Lucky shots here and there landed on her, leaving areas on her limbs and chest smouldering. She powered through the artificial recreation of pain and let loose a barrage of laserfire that cut down the remainder of the Vespids.

Except for one.

It didn't aim at her or the Commander.

Rather, it brought its rifle to bear on the duplicate it was standing over.

Coming to a standstill, Agent trained the G36C on the last Vespid.

Her hip-firing blasters fell silent. She wouldn't risk a stray shot damaging her copy's head and obliterating its combat module. 'My other dummies might not have a working replacement. I cannot afford to fail here.'

She squeezed the trigger. The subcarbine didn't shoot. An odd click sounded from it.

Agent's circuits tingled with dread.

The gun was jammed. She dumped the useless antique on the floor and went for her MP5.

The muzzle of the Vespid's rifle flared with purple light.

She wasn't fast enough. By the time she readied the submachine gun, her lookalike's head would be corroded metal.

'For me to fail, because of a worthless Griffin piece of shit, of all things...!'

Agent's audio receptors caught the distant report of a firearm. The Vespid spasmed as bullets pierced its side.

It toppled over.

Its shot went wide.

Agent looked over her shoulder. Her frustrated expression melted away, turning into one of relief.

"You're welcome," The Commander said, deadpan.

She remembered who exactly she was with. Being so open with her feelings in front of an enemy, especially when she was vulnerable, was a liability. Her demeanour became dour.

Something flashed in his eyes - disappointment, perhaps. Agent crouched beside her copy. She pulled off her gloves.

"Have you got a knife?" she asked the Commander.

"Here." He handed her a dagger. She accepted it and proceeded to vigorously cut open the dummy's face. Her hands got caked in oil and coolant.

The dummy's cranial electronics were mostly intact. She wiped her hands clean on the ragged front of her dress, and pried out the combat module. Surprisingly enough, the chip was in pristine condition.

She placed it in a bulletproof case, no larger than a wedding ring box, and pocketed it.

"I require a maintenance pod to install the replacement for my combat module. What's the way to the repair bay?"

The Commander's face darkened. "The repair bay got trashed by your goons. Ain't no chance of installing new hardware there. But there's another place we can try. Hopefully, it hasn't gotten wrecked yet."

The servant shouldered her duplicate's corpse. It was lighter than usual due to the absence of its weaponry, she noticed.

The Commander ticked an eyebrow. "Gonna carry that with you?"

"Of course. I detest the very idea of repairing myself with inferior Griffin parts. Cannibalizing this dummy will suffice."

"'Waste not, want not', huh? Alright." He started walking. "First, we find an elevator. There's a pod on the second floor."

"Located where, exactly?"

"In Welrod's office."

"Awfully generous of you, affording a piece of trash an entire room to herself."

"You don't update your lexicon often, do you? We're lucky she prefers to run her own maintenance herself."


	3. Chapter 3

A solitary signal winked on the mini-map in the corner of Agent's HUD. She gripped her MP5 in her left hand. Her right arm was wrapped around the legs of the duplicate hanging over her shoulder.

"Get ready," she told the Commander. "Someone's waiting for us."

"Just one?" He frowned as he readied his AK. "Alchemist run out of grunts to pile on us?"

That could have been the case. Or perhaps Alchemist was becoming more conservative with her remaining units.

Agent shook her head.

Fat chance of that.

Her fellow Ringleader did not know the meaning of restraint. If anything, a unit ordered to self-destruct was likely awaiting them.

The elevator stopped and opened.

Destroyer's startled face greeted Agent. Supressing her own shock, the maid barked, "Hold fire!"

The Commander had enough trigger discipline to not impulsively shoot the pigtailed grenadier.

Agent lowered her MP5. One look at the blonde, and he pointed the barrel of his Kalashnikov at the floor.

"Agent, what's going on? Where were you? Why are you using that piece of junk? Why are you disconnected from our network?" Destroyer glanced at the human. "And why's he armed?"

"Enough with the questions, Destroyer. If anything, I should be asking you." Agent marched out of the lift, passing the shorter T-Doll. She paused, and gazed through the row of windows to her left. The view of the base's western territory contained nothing of interest, save for one complex.

She gestured to it. "Human, what is that building used for?"

Irritation seeped into his tone. "That's the auxiliary training centre. Used when the main training grounds are totally occupied."

"A good position for a sniper. We should move out of sight."

"Wait!" Destroyer shrieked. She blocked her path. "Agent, what happened to you?"

Scowling fiercely, Agent answered, "I was attacked. My position was mortared by Sangvis units."

Destroyer's eyes rounded. "What?! Why would they attack you? Nobody on our side would dare to mess with you like that!"

'Shows how just much you know about our faction,' Agent mused bitterly.

"After I came back online, I subdued this Griffin Commander, and decided that he would be of use to our Master. Then Alchemist's forces began to attack us. We've encountered a number of her squads on the way here."

"H-How do you know it's Alchemist?"

"I witnessed her handiwork earlier. It's my turn to ask the questions." The Second-in-Command of SF shouldered past Destroyer. She pivoted on her heel and faced her subordinate. "Why didn't anyone look for me?"

"I wanted to, but when Dreamer located the retreating Griffin forces, we were ordered to intercept them."

Agent did not bat an eyelid at the fact that her Master prioritised M4A1's capture over the recovery of the SIC.

"Did you engage them?" she pressed.

Destroyer rolled her optics. "Of course we did. But... they got away. And there was no sign of the target." The Commander's soft sigh of relief did not elude Agent.

Destroyer pouted. "And I lost all my dummies."

"Eliza was a fool to commit so many of our forces to this operation," Agent remarked scathingly.

The Commander inclined his head silently.

"Agent, not in front of the human!" Destroyer hissed, holding a hand up to her mouth.

"He's more perceptive than you realise."

"Uh-huh. You let something slip, didn't you? ...Y'know, I never took you for the type to criticize Eliza."

Agent ignored this. She surveyed the uniformed man behind Destroyer. "Which way now, Commander of Griffin?"

"I'll show you, but I'm not saying anything in front of your pal. Alchemist could be listening in through her."

Agent's lips thinned.

"W-What?! That's absurd! That human's talking nonsense, Agent! ...Agent?"

"How well do you know your own systems, Destroyer?"

"Well enough to be able to tell if someone's eavesdropping through my coms channel!" Destroyer was on the verge of tears.

"Dreamer's in charge of your maintenance," Agent reminded her. "You think she hasn't set up a backdoor at some point?"

Destroyer was about to reply, when another voice cut in. "My, my~ You know me all too well, Agent~"

"Unfortunately, I do, Dreamer."

Dreamer chortled through Destroyer's external speakers, tiny devices beneath her shoulders' epidermal plating. "It's a good thing you won't be able to remember this conversation, Destroyer~"

This upset the grenadier even more. "Won't remember?! What do you mean?! Are you going to delete my me - "

Agent detected a signal originating from the auxiliary training centre. She glimpsed a figure moving along its rooftop. "Get down!" she bellowed, engaging her shield.

Out of the barrier's range, the Commander ducked under the windowsill. Destroyer wasn't as lucky.

A shot rang out. A window shattered and the top of Destroyer's head got blown off, spraying fragments of plating and electronic chips into the air. Cranial coolant splattered against the tessellating surface of the forcefield.

The blonde man activated his holographic doppelgangers and his form-fitting shield.

Before Agent could so much as twitch a finger, the next shot cracked from across the road.

The round punched through the Commander's cover, his clustered holograms and his barrier. He got knocked flat on his back, skidding away from Agent.

She jumped in front of the Commander, just in time to block a wide stream of azure energy. It pushed against the transparent dome enveloping her, almost blinding her.

Dreamer's voice came from Destroyer's corpse. "It's a good thing you're so predictable, Agent. Because now I can do... this."

The click of a button being pressed resounded through Destroyer's shoulder speakers, and Agent immediately understood what was about to happen.

Without deactivating her shield, she split it open from the bottom up, perpendicular to the blue laser beam and the Commander, who was getting up. Agent hurled her dummy through the gap, then hid her cannons and bulletproof case behind her back. She began resealing the protective bubble. Meanwhile, three holographic copies of Agent materialized between the maid and the closing gap.

Agent's dummy exploded before it crashed to the floor. Fire and shrapnel rained against the shield, some of which blasted through the shrinking slit and collided with her holograms.

'I should've inspected the dummy for sabotage. Dreamer had ample time to plant that charge inside it. I was careless and almost died because of my idiocy. I can't even transmit my neural cloud to another body because of this damn virus...'

"How?! How are you still alive?!" growled Dreamer.

"You always did love to run your mouth. It's one of your worst weaknesses. If it wasn't for your hint, you would've gotten me," admitted Agent.

"Damn you, damn you, damn you!"

"Why are you doing this, Dreamer?" Agent demanded as she backed up towards the Commander.

"You know exactly why, Agent." The stream of energy from Dreamer's rifle ceased. Agent didn't lower her guard, though. She was aware that Dreamer would love nothing more than a cheap shot once she turned her back and her shield disappeared.

She turned to the Commander. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah..." There was a smouldering hole as large as an apple in his Kevlar vest. Detecting the stench of burnt flesh, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"That needs to be looked at. Is there a first aid kit nearby?"

"There should be one not far from here," answered the Commander, grimacing. Pain flashed in his eyes. He clutched his wound.

"Don't touch it," Agent snapped. "The last thing you should want is for it to get infected."

His hand promptly dropped to his side. They proceeded along the hallway, and turned left.

Satisfied that they were out of Dreamer's line of fire, Agent dismissed her forcefield. She spotted a first aid kit attached to the wall. She strode over to it and yanked the box free.

Then she barged into the nearest free room, an office if the desk, shelves, and monitor were anything to go by.

"Sit," she ordered the Commander. "I need everything covering your chest off."

He hissed through gritted teeth. "I can do this myself, y'know. What do you know about treating wounds?" He plopped down on a crate in the middle of the room.

"More than I'd like to," Agent retorted, closing the door to the office.

She folded her arms and watched the Commander's exoskeleton disengage with a series of harsh clicks.

The exoskeleton's mechanical claws left clear indentations on his sleeves and trouser legs. He loosened the straps of his vest, pulled it over his head and dumped it on the carpeted floor.

Next, he removed his coat and his shirt. Agent took note of his muscular physique. An ugly welt, wide as her palm, marred his left pec.

"If it hadn't been for your holograms, shield, and vest, the skin there would be black and rotting," concluded Agent. In such a case, he would've required a skin graft.

The Commander instantly paled. "Seriously?"

"Indeed." She tugged her gloves off.

Working in silence, she first cooled and cleaned the burn with a soaked cloth. Subsequently, she grabbed a tube of ointment and squeezed some on her fingers. She carefully rubbed it over the wound. He supressed a flinch at her touch.

She would confess that the situation was surreal. The Agent of Death, providing medical treatment to an enemy. Nevertheless, she rolled her cyberoptics at his incredulity.

Once she finished applying the ointment, she wiped her hands clean with a towel and unrolled some gauze.

"Raise your arms," she instructed. He lifted them up. The maid wrapped the gauze around his torso.

Securing the dressing in place, the T-Doll put her cropped gloves back on.

"Hurry up and get dressed, human."

"Xavier Dumont." It sounded like a correction.

She stared apathetically.

"Getting real tired of you calling me 'human' all the time. Figure I should tell you my name since you probably don't even know it."

"I never cared enough to find out," she replied flatly. "All that matters is that your usefulness."

Shaking his head, he jerked on his shirt and started to button it up. "Should've known you'd say something like that..."

* * *

After he redressed, the Commander brought her to an armoury on the first floor. ARs, SMGs, machine guns, and sniper rifles were mounted on the silvery walls. Glass cabinets between the entrance and the counter housed similar firearms. Behind it, magazines, cartridges, and grenades, ranging from smokes to frags, were stocked on labelled shelves.

"I'll be damned... I thought you SF would've burned this place down."

"Dreamer's and Alchemist's lack of prudence is to our benefit. But I do not see a maintenance pod anywhere, Commander of Griffin."

"It's just behind here." He tapped a spot on the wall at the back of the armoury. An octagonal panel lowered, displaying a retinal scanner, a fingerprint analyser, and a port.

He faced the scanner. A cone of scarlet light passed over his left eye. A electronic chirp followed. He pressed his thumb against the fingerprint analyser, receiving another synthesised chirp.

"Recognized. Commander Dumont," a bland female voice announced.

A section of the wall slid to the side.

"We're in."

Agent sauntered through the doorway, taking in her surroundings. The Griffin T-Doll's office was in actuality a penthouse. A fully carpeted floor, opulent sofas and armchairs, wine cabinets, and a varnished desk were among its distinguishing features.

'That portrait is an absolute eyesore,' she decided. The painting illustrated the owner of the office, her piercing emerald eyes regarding the room sternly.

She tore her gaze away from the miserable excuse for a portrait, spotting a machine roughly the size of a bungalow. Glowing blue accents lined its sides.

It was a repair chamber, IOP-made. Undoubtedly not up to snuff like the Sangvis-manufactured ones, but it would suffice.

She peeked over her shoulder. The wall they'd come through closed up.

Agent approached the repair chamber's console. No password or scan was needed to operate it.

"Don't know a thing about workin' this machine. Can you get it running?"

The Ringleader replied, "It's nothing I can't handle."

She submitted herself to a full-body scan so that the machine could assess her condition. Light from a camera lens swept over her swiftly. A schematic of her frame appeared on the monitor, with sections highlighted to indicate her injuries. Apart from blackened areas on her artificial skin and the underlying deadened pain receptors in those spots, she'd taken no additional damage since reawakening.

Agent keyed in instructions for her imminent repair. She programmed the machine to prioritise the installation of her replacement combat module. It ran the exact same targeting system software as her original did, which was why she'd been so determined to recover it.

She checked the number of parts available. Although there were enough to completely fix her body, the idea of inserting Griffin components inside it repulsed her.

Ultimately, her pragmatism won out. Fixing herself up with second-rate parts was a necessary evil.

"So, how long's it gonna take to fix you up?"

She read the estimated time on-screen. "Approximately forty-three minutes. You must defend this repair chamber during that period." She knew how absurd the order was. If Alchemist came for them, the Commander was doomed. His gear wouldn't help him survive a head-on encounter with Alchemist. If better-equipped soldiers couldn't do it, what chance did he have?

Dreamer tended to avoid close confrontations. For all of her lethality, she rarely deviated from her designated combat role as a sniper. She would wait for Agent to show herself.

"I figured."

"I do hope you won't attempt something foolish like tampering with the operation or with my body. I will know. And your demise will be certain."

"Quit it with the threats. I don't have a death wish. And I'm not about to fuck things up for us now."

"Good to hear. By the way, that wasn't a threat. It was a promise. I never claimed that I would be necessarily the one to end your life."

"...Right. Dreamer or Alchemist could beat you to the punch. You got enough parts for a full repair?"

"It would appear so."

The Commander scratched his chin. "One detail I should mention before you get in that thing. This office doubles as a bomb shelter. So you don't have to worry about a rocket blowing you up while you're getting patched up."

"That is... reassuring," she said stiffly.

He took out a remote from the chest of drawers at the desk. "The blast doors and whatnot won't cut power to the repair chamber when active." He drew towards the repair station.

Agent held out her MP5 and Mossberg to him. "I no longer have any need for these. Do what you see fit with them."

"You can hang onto them. I've got a whole roomful of toys outside to choose from, anyway."

Irritated, Agent tossed the shotgun and the SMG on the floor. The Commander didn't even flinch. He handed her the remote, which she accepted gingerly.

"You're not staying here?"

"Naw. Just 'cause this place can take a hit from a bomb doesn't mean it can't be breached. That's what I'm gonna be busy with. Preventin' breaches."

She didn't take his words at face value. It occurred to the maid that this was the perfect opportunity for him to escape from her. But she doubted he'd make it far. Despite not trusting the Commander himself, she trusted his determination to survive.

'He should remember that he's still alive only because of me. If he runs off, his life is forfeit.'

"Then proceed," ordered Agent.

The Commander indicated the button for activating and deactivating the bomb shelter. He hefted his Kalashnikov and walked up to the wall opposite the repair chamber. The wall split apart, creating an opening, and he stepped out. It closed after him.

Agent was alone.

Thumbing the remote's switch, she observed grey layers of reinforced plating rise from the floor's edges and come down from the ceiling's fringes. Each plate was the length of a sedan, and thicker than tank armour. They stacked together horizontally, barricading every square inch of the walls and ceiling. Gears whirred and clangs echoed underneath the floor. 'The floor must also be shielded with armour plating,' she deduced.

The office was bathed in an eerie crimson glow. Agent turned to the repair chamber and ducked inside.

Brightly lit, the interior contained a leather chair akin to what a human would see at the dentist's and an array of mechanical limbs hovering above it. They didn't resemble human arms in the slightest. These skeletal models had instruments attached to their tips.

Deactivating her pain receptors, she settled into her seat. The repair chamber shut with a hiss.

The mechanical limbs descended, commencing the operation.

* * *

Outside, layers of metallic panels amalgamated, cocooning the office in an armoured shell.

Xavier was somewhat surprised that Agent allowed him to leave. Going by the look on her face, she assumed that he was planning to bolt.

He turned the idea over and over in his head.

It was tempting.

This was undeniably his best chance to escape Agent's clutches. Not only was she undergoing repairs, but the Sangvis that would inevitably find the horned android would keep her busy. She probably counted on him not wanting to risk running into Alchemist or Dreamer.

She was right about that. Xavier had neither the gear nor the skills to take down either Ringleader. Dreamer was the deadlier of the two. One blaster bolt from her rifle tore through his holo-projections, his shield and his Kevlar. Her superlaser could've burned through his skull, melting it like candle wax.

Alchemist could become an indistinguishable blur that was extremely difficult to pin down. He'd seen her dodging and weaving around small arms fire effortlessly. Only two of his T-Dolls had managed to beat an Alchemist dummy: M200, due to her top-of-the-line sniping module, and K11, because of her grenades and the fairly tight space they'd been in at the time.

He could maybe take out Alchemist, if he played things right.

Dreamer, though?

Not a chance.

For one, he wasn't a sniper. He'd shot bolt-actions and semi-autos before, but he was nowhere near as proficient as an actual sniper. Fighting her was a no go.

Agent assumed that the fear of facing them was enough of a deterrent to keep him from running.

She was mistaken.

He didn't have to fight them when he could circumvent around them. In order to do that, he had to get his hands on a tactical tablet.

Not far from the armoury, he found an equipment stash hidden in the wall that included vambraces. A curved touchscreen was affixed to the left-side one, while the right-side one had a grappling hook. He disengaged the sections of his exoskeleton covering his forearms before pulling them. Re-engaging his exo-frame completely, he switched on his arm-attached tablet and keyed in the password. He logged in to check the camera feed.

He returned to the armoury and learned two things very quickly. One: Sangvis were rapidly converging on his and Agent's location. Two: somebody else was viewing the feeds.

He snapped up his Kalashnikov and pointed at the camera staring down at him. He put one round through its lens, shattering it.

'Dreamer or Alchemist must've hacked the cameras. Which means they did it very recently or else they would have already cornered us... Fuck. They're blocking every corridor on this floor. Leaving's gonna be a whole lot more difficult now.'

As far as Alchemist and Dreamer were concerned, he and Agent were at the armoury, and that was it. The entry to the secret office couldn't be spied on by the armoury's camera, because it wasn't able to face that direction. It had been a design choice by Welrod herself.

Xavier wasn't lying when he said that the office could be breached. 'If you got an industrial power drill and lotta perseverance, it can be done.'

He brought up the feeds again. 'They're bringing in Scouts, Dragoons, Dinergates, Jaegers. I'm about to be in the centre of a big-ass pile-on. Fuck.' The feeds showed multiple teams marching in close formation. Echelon set-up varied from squad to squad, but each was formidable. Based on their positions and marching pace, Xavier reckoned he had about twelve minutes to get ready.

He set his jaw. 'Looks like you're gonna get your wish, Agent. I'll have to play bodyguard for you. I bet you predicted this would happen.'

He geared up.

C4, smokes, frags, flashbangs: they all went into a satchel that he then wore on his back.

Gas mask: fastened to his belt.

Xavier exchanged his AK's spent mag for a full one, clicking it into place. He pulled off the iron sights of the Kalashnikov, and mounted an ACOG/infrared scope hybrid on it. The hybrid scope could be switched from one mode to another at the flick of a switch.

His strapped AK-47 hung off his shoulder as he fed shells into the underside port of the Ithaca. Once fully loaded, he racked the M37. Setting it on the counter, he went over to a cabinet at the back of the armoury and procured a Desert Eagle. Checking that the safety was on, he holstered it.

Lastly, Xavier obtained an M1911 from the equipment cache down the hallway. The sidearm was modified to fire EMP rounds. Black market hardware, banned by the New Soviet Union's government. The bullets weren't even produced anymore, as the munitions factories were under strict surveillance by the military.

It was obvious why.

The military, like Griffin, was dependent on Tactical Dolls. If EMP ammunition fell into the wrong hands, it would spell the end of the army's might.

'Even though we'd beat Sangvis in a goddamn heartbeat if all our T-Dolls had that kind of ammo.' He chafed under all the regulations and restrictions imposed on Griffin. It didn't make any sense to him that the military was handicapping Griffin. 'We were hired to deal with a bunch of rogue, hostile Dolls, and they just make things harder for us.'

Luckily, Welrod had connections. She'd only been able to obtain one sidearm and two mags, though. He holstered the M1911 and pocketed the extra mag.

Xavier held up his left arm and examined the camera feed. To make it easier to defend Agent at the repair station, he would block the hallways east of it so that they wouldn't get surrounded. Xavier set charges on ceilings and walls at two intersections. The hallways leading into each one were wide enough to accommodate five car lanes. He planted C4 at specific spots to exploit structural weaknesses - fissures, hollow sections, worn-and-torn support pillars.

He pressed the detonator. His ears rang from the explosion as the two intersections east of Welrod's office caved in. Two floors' worth of building material - steel girders, bricks, cladding - spilled through the breaches caused by the C4. The resulting rumble almost deafened him.  
A cloud of dust was kicked up. It subsided after the noise died down.

Xavier blinked.

The debris filled the hallway he was in wall-to-wall. One look at the feed verified that the other intersection was obstructed by rubble as well.

'There. Now they can't attack from the east. They'll have to dig through all that debris first.'

That left the issue of the enemy's attack from the west. He'd have to fight them all by himself. There was only one route for them to take, and it was the one he and Agent had used to get to the armoury. That path weaved around it and continued towards the rubble-filled intersections.

He heard the simultaneous clacking of dozens of heels.

'They're here.' At the corner right before the armoury, he pressed his back against the wall, clutching his M37 with steady hands.

He felt extremely dumb when he spotted a camera high up focused on him. Scowling, he blasted the device off its pivot.

Element of surprise was gone.

He threw a flashbang into the adjacent hallway. Soon as blinding light and subsided in almost the same breath, he unpinned a frag grenade. He let it cook in his clenched fist for one second - two seconds - then he tossed it towards the squad of disoriented T-Dolls. Flashbangs always played havoc with the systems of Sangvis units.

The Guards at the front of the group failed to intercept the bouncing 'nade. It exploded, scattering the shield-bearers and the rifle-Dolls. His forcefield activated, Xavier popped out of cover and blasted buckshot at the Guards stumbling around. He picked them off in twos or threes, sometimes needing more than one shell to finish the job.

His shotgun spree, lasting all of five seconds, was ground to a halt by the Dragoons, who'd been unimpeded by the flash and frag. Seated in their bipedal mechanical walkers, they towered above most Sangvis Dolls. Blaster cannons, mounted on the faces of their vehicles, spat red-hot laser bolts at the Commander.

His holograms sprang to life, absorbing the blows meant for him. Crouching behind them, he picked up one of the armour plates, battered but still usable, that Sangvis used as shields. He held it with his offhand after switching to his AK. The Dragoons and Vespids made quick work of his holographic lookalikes, causing them to disperse into motes of light. Xavier let off a burst of 7.62×39mm rounds. Two Vespids were hit; one got several AK slugs buried in her endo-skull, if the shattered visor was any indication. She dropped instantly. The other helmeted grunt fell on her back. She tried to climb to her feet. Xavier rammed into her, his reacquired purple shield bashing the Doll's forehead, leaving behind a massive dent.

The Dragoons, unconcerned with the Vespid, ripped it apart with laserfire that they then rained down on Xavier. His Guard shield shook from the onslaught, causing his left arm to tremble. Xavier emptied his AK into the right-side walker. Rounds pelted the walker's armour, causing it to dent and do little else.

"Fuck!" He dumped the AK on the floor - since he couldn't reload it and simultaneously hold up a metal shield - and opted for his Desert Eagle, thumbing its safety off.

He lined up its sights with the same walker's pilot, and squeezed the trigger. A .50 Action Express bullet punched through the Dragoon's face and out the back of its head, catapulting the biker chick off her seat. He dispatched the other Dragoons in a similar fashion.

The bodies of two Dragoons got unceremoniously crushed by their walkers. Casting aside the dented, riddled and smouldering Guard shield, Xavier holstered his Desert Eagle and picked up his Kalashnikov.

He glanced at the way the Sangvis units had come from. He definitely remembered there being more than two Vespids.

A blaster bolt slammed into his spine, bowling him over. Then, a never-ending torrent of concentrated fire began to eat away at his form-fitting energy barrier as he jumped to his feet.

'Shit! Those bastards flanked me!'

He dived through the closest door on his left. He swiftly locked it before the Vespids could force their way through.

As if on autopilot, his fingers tapped at his arm-bound touchscreen. He had access to concealed cameras that were on a circuit different from the one Dreamer and Alchemist had hacked.

Welrod had gotten them installed so that she would be able to observe what was happening outside in the case of her office entering lockdown.

Through the technicolour feed, he could make out Vespids storming the armoury, carbines brought to bear. They were approaching the impact-absorbent, multi-layered blockade that guarded Welrod's office.

'Well, that just won't do.' Welrod had additionally installed automated turrets. He brought them online with a couple of keystrokes. Miniguns, whirring to life, descended from hatches on the ceiling. They beeped as they locked onto their targets, and unleashed hell on the Vespids.

The roar of the gatling guns was hardly muted by the wall between the firing range and the armoury. Xavier gazed at his feed. The Vespids inside the arsenal never had a chance; they were gunned down where they stood.

Xavier reloaded his AK, and then his Featherlight pump-action. He re-entered the armoury through the door connecting it to the shooting range.

The turrets beeped, swivelling towards him. Registering him as a friendly, they resumed standby mode. Xavier checked the time on his tablet. Four minutes elapsed since the attack had commenced.

He had almost died due to his recklessness. A shiver coursed down his spine.

Nobody was here to take a hit for him. Not Agent, who was getting repaired. Not his T-Dolls, who were possibly hundreds of miles away.

Stupid stunts like ditching a metal shield without confirming all hostiles in the vicinity were down would get him killed.

He brought up his tablet, tapping on the camera feeds. The other SF squads were pulling back.

He grew suspicious.

'Probably plannin' to hit me from above or below, now that the direct approach ain't workin' out so well for them.'

"You're going to an awful lot of trouble to protect Agent," chortled someone over the intercom.

His shoulders stiffened. She didn't sound husky enough to be Alchemist, so that left Dreamer.

"I know you can hear me, Griffin Commander."

The nearest speaker was pinned above the armoury's door. He stomped over to it, pumping his Featherlight mid-step.

"We're only interested in Agent. You can leave and run back to your masters at Griffin. I've even cleared the way for you, so you don't have to worry about getting ambushed. ...You don't want to actually defend Agent, do you?" Dreamer's playful voice gained a note of incredulity. "She doesn't call herself an Agent of Death for fun, you know. She's killed more people - more humans - than any other member of Sangvis Ferri. If you walk away, you'd be doing both us and Griffin a favour. One less problem for your side to deal with. Plus, you get to live another day. But in this miserable world, that's not much of a consolation. So, what's your answer, Griffin Commander?"

His immediate response was a shotgun blast. Buckshot shredded the intercom speaker, spalling its plastic cover. Xavier worked the M37's action, his features set. He wasn't about to take Dreamer's word on anything, not after she blew Destroyer's head off. Someone on her own side.

The rest of her little speech didn't matter one iota. It certainly did not warrant a verbal reply.

"Fine!" Dreamer's voice, now emitting from a speaker down the corridor, changed for a split second, sounding demonic. "You've made your choice, then!" She giggled madly. "I'm going to enjoy flaying you alive! You think your demolitions attempt changed a thing? Wrong! You're just delaying the inevitable!"

Overhead tiles exploded, tumbling onto the floor as something burst through the ceiling, destroying the minigun turrets in the process. His eyes widened. Xavier rolled out of the way of a Dragoon's walker. It fell to the floor, cratering the spot he'd been in.

Levitating Scouts accompanied it.

His shield's integrity was low, and wasn't finished recharging. Neither was his hologram generator. He made a dash for the counter, the most durable cover in the armoury, and scrambled over it. Xavier ducked down and drew his modified M1911. He popped up from behind the counter and instantly downed the Dragoon, putting two in her head. The impact activated the gelled EMP charge within the .45 ACP round, and discharged an electromagnetic wave throughout her body, causing all her systems to crash. The pilot slumped in her seat.

He swapped to his M37. Buckshot worked wonders on the Scouts whizzing about. They got dropped like unsuspecting guards.

A hard clunk sounded behind Xavier. Someone must've gotten onto the roof of Welrod's office. The armoury was adjacent to a ginormous support column. She'd had a section of it hollowed out to facilitate her office.

Xavier tapped away on his touchscreen to switch on more defences. When he was done, he wore a smirk.

An electric current, strong enough to fry T-Doll electronics, lanced along the surface of the conducting metallic multi-layered shell protecting the office, the interior of which was insulated. The SF attackers got shocked. He could imagine them spasming helplessly. They collapsed on the office roof in a series of dull thuds.

There were no cameras to observe the space between the roof and the ceiling. But cams on the floor above showed the breach made. It was right above the office's rooftop.

Adrenaline coursed through him. He pulled on his gas mask, then climbed up onto the walker. Shoving the Dragoon's corpse off, the Griffin Commander took the pilot's seat, which looked like the seat of a motorbike more than anything. He looked down at the controls. Xavier remembered Agent's warning about SF units rigging their guns to blow if the wrong person handled them. That could apply to the Dragoon walkers.

He shrugged. It was worth a shot.

He started up the walker, gripping the handle bars. A bumper on the underside of the right handle bar was used to shoot the over/under double-barrelled cannon attached to the mech. He tested it. The cannon fired like it was supposed to. So far, the walker didn't erupt underneath him.

Xavier checked the cams for the next wave of assault teams. He found them. They decided that dropping in from the second floor was preferable to simply rushing him.

Either way, with his newest acquisition, they were in for a bad time.

* * *

A Dinergate the size of a poodle got crushed beneath the stumpy foot of the Dragoon walker as it advanced forward, laying waste to those in its way. Holographic replicas crowded Xavier in the pilot's seat. They took hits meant for him, steadily weakening and fading away once they took too much damage.

A blast from his mech's cannon bored wrist-wide tunnels through the head and torso of an unlucky Vespid. Many of her compatriots received similar injuries.

A trio of Dragoons still standing charged into the fray, letting loose at Xavier. He returned fire, focusing his shots on the legs of the enemy walker. A laser bolt chipped the joint of one walker's leg, and it went down.

Xavier's walker got peppered by blasterfire from the remaining pair of pilots. It wobbled from the never-ending series of impacts. The front of his mech caught fire.

'Must've hit the fuel tank,' he reckoned as he bailed, leaping off the back of the blazing walker. He dropped a smoke grenade and sprinted for cover, his T4 exoskeleton accelerated his speed. The gas cloud consumed the Dragoons, slowing then down. He rounded the corner, peeked and snapped up his Kalashnikov.

Xavier switched to thermal. Pressing the right lens of his gas mask up against the AK's scope, he took aim and let off two concentrated bursts that catapulted both Dragoons off their walkers.

"Hah, you're a bigger nuisance than anyone could've thought."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He turned towards the one who'd spoken.

Alchemist.

The one-eyed Ringleader sneered derisively at him, standing at the other end of the corridor.

"How many squads did you take out with that damn walker?" she drawled as she began to approach him. "We should've rigged them all to self-destruct." A shrug. "Oh, well. Can't be helped. Not like you're going to survive this, anyway."

Xavier considered his options. Small arms fire by itself was pointless against her. He held up his tablet, accessing the defences menu on it. He jabbed the smoke icon desperately. He sprayed at her with his AK to stall.

A rictus broke out on her face right before she blurred, an indistinct shape hopping from spot to spot all the while getting closer. "Useless!" she crowed.

A row of nozzles protruded out of each wall, pumping smoke into the hallway. "Even more useless! You think you can hide from me with smoke?!" Alchemist taunted. Her heels clacked against the floor. Did that mean that the gas was affecting her ability to flash-step?

He wasted no time in drawing his M1911.

"A peashooter? Seriously, you're going to take on me with that?" Alchemist laughed, then trained her pistol/blade hybrids on him. After that, the smoke completely obscured her. "You deserve to die for insulting me like that."

He focused on her voice and fired at where he believed it was originating from.

A gasp.

His aim was true.

"W-What is this? What did you do to me, you piece of shit!?"

Another shot. Another hit.

This time, she went down.

The soft hiss of air through his gas mask was all he heard. He approached cautiously through the smoke, gripping his pistol with two hands. It was easier for a T-Doll to play dead than for a human. Androids could have absolute control over their movements. They wouldn't twitch if kicked in the side or smothered with a pillow. They could shut down their optics to pretend that their neural clouds had been transferred to a backup body.

He reached Alchemist's supine body. His shots had landed on her chest. One round had pierced her left breast, the other just below her bust. She never moved.

Pointing the M1911 at her, Xavier pulled out his Desert Eagle and shot three bullets into her pale forehead. Her head was in smithereens. Fragments of her electronic components and alloyed cranium showered the floor around her.

Satisfied, Xavier holstered the Desert Eagle. He frowned. 'Too easy. This had to have been a dummy. The real Alchemist would be much tougher to beat.'

He continued past her corpse. A right turn, then a left, and he was back at the armoury. On the way there and inside, SF corpses were strewn about. Plumes from their gaping wounds drifted skyward. The arsenal itself was in shambles; semi-automatics littered the floor, amidst the bodies. Remains of turrets lay in the centre of the room. All the glass cabinets had been smashed, their contents spread out across the armoury. A Ripper's arm dangled over the edge of the breach in the ceiling.

Xavier stared at it.

Seconds later, the entire body dropped at his feet as the chunk of ceiling under it had given way.

Clenching his left fist, the gas-masked operator held up his arm-bound tablet to flick through the feeds.

The intact cams further away from the combat zone showed no movement. That suited him fine.

He took a deep breath.

Exhaled.

His encounter with Alchemist left him rattled. Facing her had been a gamble. Thanks to it, he was aware that whatever system responsible for her flash-stepping could get clogged with smoke and break down. That trick was unlikely to be as effective the next time round.

His tablet vibrated. Someone was calling him. Xavier furrowed his brow.

He thought that the jammers in the area were still on. Or maybe it was still a case of intra-base transmissions being feasible, while external transmissions were jammed. He didn't recognise the number, so he refused the call.

That didn't work.

A profile picture of a raven-haired woman with yellow irises popped up on his screen. Bung-shaped accessories adorned either side of her head, and a stylised collar hugged her neck. He could see the top of her striped dress.

"Trying to deny my call, Commander? I'm afraid that's not going to work. I've gotten tired of you interrupting me and blowing up the intercom speakers. Plus, I know how important your tablet is to you. Without it, you wouldn't have been able to take out Alchemist's dummy. You have no idea how pissed off she is about that."

Xavier could hazard a guess.

"Tch, say something. You staring silently at the screen with that ugly mask of yours is boring."

The tablet had two cameras, one facing inward, another outward. The latter wasn't an issue, since the smart device was embedded in his left vambrace.

She could see him. That was a problem. She'd be able to make out what he'd do and potentially where he'd be. Dreamer was right about the tablet's utility. He couldn't get rid of it just yet. Xavier strode over a cupboard by the wall that by some miracle hadn't been obliterated.

He opened it and rifled through the supplies.

The solution was simple.

He slapped a sticker over the inward-facing camera.

"Camera-shy, huh, Commander?" Rather than get annoyed, Dreamer adopted a teasing tone. "Or do you think you're not photogenic at all? Maybe that's why you're wearing the mask."

'This thing come with a mute button?' Xavier tried to lower the volume, to no effect.

"That won't work, Commander of Griffin," cackled the sniper.

She forced his tablet to accept the call and she disabled volume adjustment on it. What else did she do? Were the controls to Welrod's defences at her fingertips?

That had to be the next step for Dreamer. If she didn't already have access to them.

"I'm surprised you haven't yet tried to contact your allies. Go ahead. I'll let you call them... so you lead them into a slaughter." Her murderous glee made him see red.

'Bitch is stalling. I'm sick of her shit.'

After two yanks, Xavier ripped the tablet-containing vambrace off without disengaging his exoskeleton. He lobbed it at the wall. The screen cracked on impact. He snatched his Ithaca up off the ground as he walked up to the discarded vambrace. Two blasts from the M37 reduced it to a shot-riddled attempt at modern art.

When he cooled off, Xavier felt like a moron. He'd played into Dreamer's hand. Truthfully, it'd been a lose-lose situation. Either she hacked his tablet even more and took over the defences set up by Welrod, or he destroyed it, losing a means of protecting himself and Agent.

"Heh. You thought I was going to destroy you using your defences?"

Xavier's stomach lurched. The voice that had annoyed him over the comm was practically speaking in his ear now.

He whirled round to face none other than Dreamer herself. She was levitating, with a ginormous rifle in her small, delicate hands. It was levelled at his chest. Her long hair and her black skirt fluttered.

"That little one-sided chat of ours was just a distraction." Her yellow eyes glinted as she smiled playfully.

'She snuck up on me, and I didn't hear a thing because she hovered all the way here.'

"You still won't say a word to me." Dreamer pouted. Then her smirk returned. "I wonder what your screams sound like." Tossing the M37 away, Xavier drew his modified M1911.

Dreamer fired her rifle. Xavier dived out of the way, his T4 exoskeleton propelling him to the right. Her shot skimmed by his energy shield.

The Commander let off two rounds. Both of them struck Dreamer's torso, causing her to flinch. Despite this, her smile didn't waver. Her irises began glowing red. "Heh heh. That barely tickles, Commander."

Xavier panicked. 'The EMPs had no effect?! Shit, I gotta get outta here!'

He raised his right arm, shooting his vambrace-attached grappling hook upwards. Flying through the chasm in the floor right above him, the grapple pierced the ceiling of the second floor.

Causing the cable to retract, Xavier got yanked up. The barrel of Dreamer's rifle followed his retreating form. Frustration warped her features.

'I was wrong about there being no effect. Her trigger-finger's jammed!' He could see it trembling, unable to squeeze the trigger. Dreamer gritted her teeth.

He glanced at the pistol in his right hand. One bullet left in the mag. He surged through the gap in the second floor.

Without warning, the grapple's cable got severed by a laser bolt. Xavier plummeted. He caught a glimpse of an irritated Dreamer dummy, her rifle smoking.

He crashed to the floor. Stars exploded in his vision as pain lanced through his side, which bore the brunt of the impact. The M1911 slid out of reach. Winded, he tried to push himself up. A blast from a semi-automatic obliterated his sidearm.

'Fuck. Now I've got nothing to fight off these Ringleaders.'

Someone spun him around roughly and tore off his gas mask. Alchemist sneered at him, keeping a firm grip on his Kevlar vest.

"Not so funny anymore, is it, Dreamer?" she asked over her shoulder.

"That bastard damaged my mainframe," snarled Dreamer, her words laced with static. "I've lost full control over my motor functions. If it weren't for those damn EMP bullets, I would've blasted his arm off. Or his head." She giggled darkly.

"Then dump it, if it's such a big problem."

"Are you forgetting that we're dealing with Agent here? I can still operate in this body. I just have to make some... adjustments."

"If you say so." Alchemist sounded unconvinced.

"Hey, Agent!" She shouted, jabbing her bi-pronged bayonet in Xavier's face, almost cutting his cheek. "Show yourself or the human gets it! I sincerely doubt you went to all the trouble of keeping him alive, only to - "

An explosion cut her off. The reinforced wall protecting Welrod's office erupted in a shower of shrapnel, some of which speared Xavier's energy shield. He instinctively blocked his face. Lowering his arm, he watched a figure emerge from the smoke.

Agent marched towards them, skirt up, guns out. Not a fissure to be seen on the maid's visage. Her dress was all sewn up. The wire that coiled around her silver collar was restored. Her hair buns bobbed with every clack of her heeled boots.

* * *

Agent stopped nine feet away from her fellow Ringleaders and the Commander.

"Unhand him, Alchemist," she ordered icily.

"Heh, has he grown on you or something? You did have a soft spot for humans, after all." Dumont ticked an eyebrow at the claim. The maid wished for nothing more than to bash Alchemist's head against the floor to wipe that obnoxious smile off her face.

"Hmph. Don't misunderstand. I didn't defend him because of any kind of sentiment. He will merely be another tool at our Master's disposal." Bitterness crept into the maid's tone for but a single instant. She steeled herself. "When she finds out that you've cost her a useful asset, you will suffer."

"A useful asset, you say?" interrupted someone. Agent felt her circuits chill. The voice was that of a little girl's. The speaker was anything but. She was only built to look like one.

Beamed from Dreamer's projectors, a hologram fizzled to life. It depicted a tanned girl with a scarlet, upside-down V on her forehead. Bracketed by locks of artificial grey hair, her cold, black eyes surveyed Agent.

The Second-in-Commanded curtsied, bowing her head deferentially. "Lady Eliza."

Eliza was her direct superior, and the one in charge of all of Sangvis Ferri.

"Explain your actions, Agent," instructed Eliza. "Not only have you disconnected from our network, but you've also laid waste to several of my units."

The number of lost T-Dolls was trivial to Eliza. It was the fact that Agent herself had been committing the act that caught her Master's attention. "Is this your attempt at rebellion?" Eliza asked flatly.

"No, Master. I would never - I did not disconnect from the OGAS network of my volition." Nor could she. Eliza had seen to that when she first took control. "I've been infected by a virus. That is the cause of my disconnection."

The tanned Doll's gaze slid over to Dumont, who regarded her warily.

"Griffin's work?"

Agent shook her head. "Hardly. They would have to know the ins and outs of Parapluie to devise such a program."

"Are you telling me that the virus inside your mainframe is derived from Parapluie?"

"Affirmative, Master."

"If what you're saying is true, then we have a serious problem. You do realise that I only have your word to go on?"

"I know. I will submit myself to an examination when we return with the prisoner."

"And our T-Dolls that you eliminated?"

"They attacked me first. I acted in self-defense."

"Really. Because Alchemist and Dreamer have shown me footage that depicts an altogether different account. You and that... human mowing down Sangvis units."

"When I return, Lady Eliza, I will re-connect to OGAS and then you'll have access to my memories. You'll see that I'm telling the truth," promised Agent. She failed to supress a smirk at the uneasy glance that Dreamer and Alchemist exchanged.

"Hmm. So you say."

"...I've never lied to you, Master. Why would I start now?"

"True. Since the beginning of your service, you've always been honest, even when you knew you could get punished for it."

Eliza's hologram turned to Dreamer. "Bring Agent and the Griffin Commander to the western side of the main complex."

Agent frowned. This reeked of a trap. However, she would play along for the moment.

Alchemist was about to throw the Commander over her shoulder when Agent grabbed her wrist. "My prisoner, my responsibility." She purposefully pressed the barrel tip of one gun against the cyclops' torso.

"Let Agent look after the... pathetic waste of life." Eliza's disgust couldn't have been more obvious.

Alchemist glanced at Dumont before shoving him towards Agent. "Enjoy hauling around dead weight."

The maid stooped down to pick up Dumont's scoped Kalashnikov. She slung the AK's underside strap over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Dreamer asked.

"Simply fetching a souvenir." Agent placed a gloved hand on the Commander's shoulder. Not out of comfort, but as a warning.

'As if all the weapons pointed at him are not enough of a threat,' she noted.

Surrounded by enemies, she did not lower her guard. Dreamer and Alchemist were currently docile, yet that could change at a moment's notice.

Her guns were locked on the other Ringleaders, ready to fire. Alchemist sauntered ahead of Agent, Dreamer's mainframe, and Dumont. One of the sniper's dummies floated after them, her rifle fixated on Agent's back.

'Eliza's presence is the only reason why I haven't yet executed these traitors. They're no doubt counting on that to stop me from acting. Which is why they appear so casual. I should do away with this trash before the odds end up in their favour. But if I do that, then Master will believe her suspicions are justified.'

As they passed by corpses of SF Dolls, Eliza asked, "Your handiwork, Agent?"

The horned android gave a shake of the head. "Not mine. The Griffin Commander disposed of them."

"Unbelievable," muttered her Master. "You two are an embarrassment to Sangvis Ferri. Losing so many units to a human, of all things." Alchemist and Dreamer bristled.

Dumont didn't utter a word.

They walked outside towards the auxiliary training centre. Agent's optics adjusted to the incoming sunlight as she sensed her epidermal plating growing warmer under it.

The heat quickly became unbearable.

The maid felt as if her circuits were about to liquefy. Her cooling system kicked in, working silently to maintain her circuitry and various modules at operable temperatures. The Commander brought up a hand to shade his eyes. He was sweating bullets.

Agent scanned the training centre. Her HUD displayed two signals. Dreamer had placed one of her dummies on the top level, and another one on the rooftop. Two of Alchemist's duplicates approached from the shadows. A courtyard separated the training centre and the main building. Four cylindrical towers, equidistant to Agent, loomed over the Ringleaders and the human.

'Good cover for avoiding sniperfire,' she thought.

"Now then, Agent. Tell me how this human will be an asset to our cause." Eliza's tone rang with scepticism. All eyes, save Dumont's, were on Agent.

Dreamer and her dummies had the SIC in their sights.

"It's simple, Mistress. We exchange him for M4A1. Griffin wouldn't want to lose of one of their Commanders over a Doll, even if it's one as rare as our target. It will be much more cost-efficient than this operation." Agent watched the hologram of Eliza curl her lip in disgust. The raven-haired Doll had been against the assault on the S09 base. Despite privately doubting it would succeed, she focused all of her efforts on the mission. Even so, that hadn't been enough. Because of the Commander, M4A1 had slipped through their fingers. Eliza could blame Agent all she wanted - and she wouldn't be wrong to do so - but it'd been a foolhardy endeavour from the beginning.

Where brute force had failed, 'negotiations' would succeed. Griffin prided themselves on protecting human life. If they couldn't - wouldn't - protect one of their own, then Agent intended to use that against them. A propaganda campaign, of sorts, to show just how truly reliable Griffin and Kryuger were.

Agent could've sworn her hearing module glitched when her Master replied.

"Pardon?"

"Are your audio receptors malfunctioning, Agent? I said no. I will not barter with any humans. Under any circumstances. Ever. Execute him. You will carry out the deed."

Agent floundered. Glanced at Dumont. He stared intently at Eliza.

"You're a real piece of work," he muttered. "Killing me won't bring you any closer to your goal. Keeping me alive will. But I guess you're just too stubborn to accept that, to accept your losses."

"Oh, so you can talk!" sneered Dreamer.

Agent stepped forward past the Commander. "Master, M4A1 will be ours much sooner if we propose a swap with Griffin. I don't understand why you're so adamantly against this."

Eliza waved a hand dismissively. "I see no reason for an exchange. I can always replenish my army with more units, and we've just captured one of Griffin's strategic sites in S09. He's worthless to me. Kill him already." Her black eyes appeared to gain a glimmer of life. "Do this, and your place at my side will remain assured. If what you said about Dreamer and Alchemist is true, then I will allow you to dispense justice as you see fit. But only if you prove your loyalty and obey my order."

Dreamer and Alchemist's smug grins vanished, the Ringleaders becoming worried.

Agent faced Dumont. He met her gaze as she lifted up the edge of her skirt and a quartet of laser cannons protruded, their muzzles flaring scarlet.

His features contorted into expressions of fear, rage, disappointment, and finally, acceptance. With the boiling sun bearing down on him and sweat dribbling down his forehead, he still managed to look dignified.

'How ironic. The man who's about to be executed seems to be at peace, yet I... am not,' Agent opined.

"Don't suppose it's too much to ask for a blindfold?" jested Dumont weakly as pain flashed in his eyes.

Nobody answered.

"I guess it is," he mumbled.

Agent hesitated. She wasn't programmed to be sentimental, nor did she develop such a trait later in life. Beyond his use for her Master's cause, she cared little about Dumont.

Initially.

She acknowledged that were it not for him, she possibly wouldn't be standing right now in the courtyard before the auxiliary training centre.

Humans were weak, fragile creatures.

She'd learned that early on. However, there were some who fought with remarkable resilience and determination.

The Griffin Commander was undeniably one of those people.

She got told that her efforts to protect him were for naught, that a pair of traitors were more believable than her.

This was the bigger reason for her hesitation. Agent seethed. 'Who's to say Eliza will actually trust me if I follow her order? Why should I obey someone like that? Her impatience and stubbornness blind her. I'm not connected to OGAS, which means Eliza can't control me. Hmph. Since when has she trusted someone who isn't under her thumb? She'll likely still believe that I disconnected from the OGAS Protocol by myself. ...How troublesome.'

Her hip-mounted cannons charged up, whining. The Commander exhaled. His gaze switched to them, and then her countenance.

Without warning, two cannons swivelled around and gunned down Dreamer's mainframe and her dummy on the ground. The sniper Dolls never got a chance to so much as fire off a round, dropping dead instantaneously.

'Your response time is sluggish, Dreamer. Those EMP bullets must've damaged the pathways linking your CPU to your motor system,' reasoned Agent.

The other pair of cannons started blasting at Alchemist and her carbon copies, who ran for cover while returning fire.

In the midst of this, Agent tossed Dumont his scoped Kalashnikov. He caught it, with shock plastered all over his features. His surprise morphed into a look of resolve.

"Stay close to me," Agent told him. She spun around, facing the auxiliary training facility. A bubble of energy, tessellating hexagons glowing on its surface, encapsulated the maid and the Commander.

Laserfire rained down on them from above. The blaster bolts splattered against Agent's shield.

"So, how're we gonna fight these Ringleaders?"

"Observe, Griffin Commander."

There was a hologram at the front of her forcefield that resembled a crest, consisting of three scarlet V-shaped pieces. They began to pulse, shifting slightly in place. The barrier's hexagonally tessellating surface flickered continuously.

"She's charging up her attack!" roared Alchemist. "Hurry up and break that shield, Dreamer!"

"I'm disappointed in your choice, Agent," said Eliza calmly. A holo-image of her was being projected from one of Alchemist's bodies, which were hiding behind the towers ahead of Agent.

"I've decided that there is no point in serving a master who'll likely never trust me again, regardless of what choices I make."

"We both know that's not the reason why. In any case, this won't be the last time we'll see each other." Eliza's hologram winked out.

Streams of azure energy from Dreamer's rifles assailed the force shield. Yet it prevailed, despite the monstrous firepower. Dumont looked away to avoid being blinded by the bright light. Shutting her eyes, Agent stretched out her right arm. The uppermost holographic V-shaped section lost all colour as the other sections split apart and crimson energy accumulated at the centre of the crest. She flicked her extended arm upwards.

The defensive dome shattered, releasing the built-up energy. A deafening boom thundered. Agent reopened her optics.

The courtyard was in devastation. Spiderweb cracks ran along the ground. The four towers were nearly disintegrated. Alchemist's mainframe and her dummies were flat on their backs.

Or what was left of them, anyway. One was missing her head and legs. The others, their arms and faces.

The training centre was in ruins. The roof had caved in, and the entrance and wall opposite Agent and Dumont was reduced to rubble.

"Holy shit! What – what was that?!" shouted the Commander. His ears were undoubtedly ringing from the explosion.

"That was my 'Key of Omens.'"

He shook his head, and spoke more quietly. "… If you had unleashed that on my T-Dolls, none of them would've stood a chance…"

"That's the intention. An all-out, annihilating attack." A blip representing an electronic signal appeared on Agent's mini-map in her HUD. "Don't let your guard down. I'm detecting one signal from what remains of the training facility. It's either Dreamer or her dummy."

"Could be a trap."

"It is." Dreamer couldn't be in any state to fight. Not after her Key of Omens. She expected Agent to come towards her, and then she would self-destruct. Perhaps the sniper was counting on her curiosity or desire to finish the job.

Dreamer was going to be left disappointed.

"Not gonna finish her off?" queried Dumont.

"And risk getting blown up? I'll pass." Agent stared at the remains of the training centre. She spoke with her voice raised, "If you can hear me, Dreamer, then don't feel too bad. After all, you were the one who came closest to killing me. You may take pride in that."

A small explosion rang out. Dreamer's signal vanished.

"Did she just…?"

"Self-destruct? Affirmative."

She turned to leave. "You're not going to ask me why I spared you?"

"I'm just glad to be alive. But I can take a guess. I reckon you didn't shoot me because you wanted to piss off Eliza." The Commander tilted his head, holding his AK-47 in one hand. The gun was pointed down. "Am I wrong?"

"You're not."

"Good enough for me. You know she's not going to stop coming after you, right?"

Agent was aware. She was too high a prize for Eliza to simply let go. She carried in her neural cloud most, if not all, of Eliza's strategies and plans. She'd been responsible for logistics and commanding all other Ringleaders.

She could go into hiding. Reformat her body. Assume another identity. With her skills and experience, it wouldn't be too difficult.

"I sense you have a proposition for me, Commander. Very well." Agent clasped her hands together in front of her. "Speak plainly, and I shall hear you out."

"Come back to Griffin with me. Share all the intel you got on Sangvis Ferri and I will get you pardoned."

Agent arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I'm more likely to get dismantled than for that to happen."

"Do you really think so? Because when my bosses see just how good at combat you are, they're not going to just scrap you out of spite."

"You can't guarantee that."

He gave a frown. "…No, but I will argue on your behalf. You're a T-Doll, you're meant to be on the frontlines. Besides, this way, you can be certain of Eliza's downfall."

"And who would I be serving under?"

"Under me, of course."

Agent tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "What if I were to refuse your… _generous_ offer? What then, Commander of Griffin?"

"Then… I would let you go on your merry way." Dumont chuckled. "I'm not suicidal enough to fight you head-on. But neither Griffin nor SF are gonna give up pursuing you. And killing me now would just be a waste of ammo."

Cupping her elbow, Agent stroked her chin pensively. "No reprogramming."

Dumont seemed taken aback. "I would never – the thought's never even crossed my mind."

She squinted at him. "Really now."

He scowled. "Yes, _really_. I wouldn't do that to any Doll – it's essentially brainwashing. And I won't let HQ mess around with your neural cloud like that."

"If you say so, Commander. How do I know that you won't double-cross me like Dreamer and Alchemist did?"

"I take it my word isn't good enough?"

"It isn't."

"You've still got your explosive implant, right? And it's working?" She nodded reluctantly. He flashed a humourless smile. "Then you get to blow us all up to kingdom come if I betray you."

"You're not going to mention that detail to your colleagues or superiors?"

"You'll just have to trust that I won't."

Trust. She could count the number of people she trusted on one hand. 'This will be a gamble.'

"I will state my terms in full. No reprogramming, no dismantling. I will not be experimented on or isolated for research by anyone at Griffin, IOP, 16LAB or any of your partners or allies."

"Agreed."

"One more thing, Commander. I expect my neural cloud will be datamined for intel. A number of files are going to be heavily encrypted. They contain memories… deeply personal. …I will grant you access to them. Only you. Not your T-Dolls. Not your superiors. Not your colleagues or allies. Only. You. These particular files will not contain anything of interest in Griffin's war against Sangvis Ferri. Of that you can be assured."

"Alright. But if I do find something relevant, I won't keep it to myself."

"You won't."

The look on his face clearly said 'We'll see.'

"You're okay with me deciding what role you get, Agent?"

"As long as you don't waste my skills, I won't complain."

"Looks like we got ourselves a deal." Dumont held out his hand. "Shake on it?"

She shook it firmly. The T-Doll squeezed his fingers warningly as she leaned in. "Should you renege on our agreement…"

"Don't worry. I remember what's at stake."

Releasing Dumont's hand, Agent stepped back and performed a curtsy. "Starting today, I, Agent, am at your service, Commander Dumont."


	4. Chapter 4

Welrod Mk II detested reporting failures. Though Commander Dumont's evacuation had been successful, the fact that he hadn't tried to hold the base in Area S09 assigned to him reflected on her and the rest of the T-Dolls under his command.

'Can it even called a failure if we never tried?' she wondered.

At the Command Room in the new outpost, she, MG5, and M4A1 stood before a holo-projector that displayed a life-sized image of a slim, ashen-haired woman with a monocle from the hips up. She wore the standard crimson G&K coat. A wide leather belt with a massive buckle was tightened around her waist.

Her name was Helian, and she'd been Commander Dumont's direct supervisor.

They were currently in the middle of a debriefing.

"And how many human casualties were there?" asked Helian. Her hologram flickered momentarily.

"Just one," relayed Welrod, her cool tone not betraying a hint of her inner turmoil. "The Commander himself. He… I was unable to guide him to safety."

The hand-gunner could feel MG5's and M4A1's gazes boring into the side of her head.

Helian sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That is… unfortunate. Finding a replacement for Commander Dumont will take time. Failing that, all the T-Dolls at this outpost will have to be assigned to other Commanders."

What Helian wasn't mentioning was that if there was no place for some of Dumont's Tactical Dolls, then they would get their fire control cores removed, their Weapon Imprint wiped, and would either return to IOP or the civilian sector.

Neither was a good option.

There was no chance of Welrod ending up in either scenario. She was too valuable. Her resources and connections were of great benefit to the PMC. Were anything to happen to her, Griffin would suffer for it.

Veterans such as WA2000 and MG5, and the AR Team weren't in any danger. The likes of IDW, however, wouldn't be as fortunate.

"During our retreat, the second and thirds trains – the latter of which MG5 and I were aboard - were ambushed by Sangvis forces that Destroyer, and the now identified Alchemist and Dreamer led," continued Welrod. "Evac helis airlifted us away from the battle at the railway tracks."

M4A1 added softly, "The AR Team and most of the human personnel departed on the first train. We encountered no resistance on the way here."

Helian folded her arms, frowning. "I'm glad that you made it out safely. But the loss of a Commander and an FOB does us no favours, especially not this late into the war. Do we know why Sangvis launched the invasion? What were they after?"

"The Commander believed that SF came specifically for M4A1," MG5 answered. "That's why he ordered for her and her team to retreat first." She turned her head towards the AR Doll, who glanced at her. "They're no doubt after the data that you downloaded at Safe House 3."

"Ah… That makes sense," said M4A1. "Wait, he told you about that?"

MG5's eyebrows knitted together. "Of course he did. I'm his adjutant."

"Was."

A simulation of a sigh. "…Yes, was."

Holding up a fist to her mouth, Helian cleared her throat. "Welrod, how exactly did the Commander die?"

"I didn't see him get killed, but considering that he was facing Agent..." Welrod looked to the side. She returned her gaze to the holo-image of Helian. "Well, what other conclusion can I draw?" she whispered bleakly.

"Another Commander lost to her of all Ringleaders…"

Just then, the console started beeping. "We've got an incoming transmission!" MG5 said.

"Answer it. It may be urgent."

The machine-gunner thumbed a switch, accepting the call.

"Can anyone hear me? This is Comman - "

Welrod gaped at the console. MG5 gasped. Helian listened stoically.

The first to reply was M4A1. "Commander, you're alive! Thank goodness!" She strode forward and planted her hands on the console.

"Hey, M4! You and your whole team make it out okay?"

"Yes, sir. None of us sustained any damage."

"Glad to know I did at least one thing right. Who is else is there with you?"

"I'm here, Commander," MG5 added, relieved.

Welrod chimed in, "So am I. Miss Helian is listening." Unlike the other Tactical Dolls present, she was warier of this call. Based on Agent's reputation and SF's overall stance towards humans, he should've been dead. The waistcoat-clad android glanced at the hologram of Helian, who pursed her lips.

"Of course she is. I just had to call in when she's on the line..." This sounded like the Dumont that Welrod knew.

"I need an evac. Can you track my signal?"

Blasterfire and the hum of a jeep engine sounded in the background.

"On it." Welrod typed on the keyboard. Shortly, a map appeared on the monitor, displaying his whereabouts. Multiple Sangvis IFFs, coloured red, were dotted around his signal, and all were on the move. What caught the pistolier's eye was the signal right beside the Commander's.

"Tracking you now. Sir, that IFF next to you... it's a mixture of Griffin and Sangvis, but mostly Sangvis..."

"Oh, yeah. That's Agent." His casual delivery almost floored Welrod.

"Agent?!" M4A1 glared. "What's going on, sir? What's she doing with you?"

Welrod sensed her circuitry chilling. The others wore looks of anger and confusion.

"Keeping him alive, Griffin trash," a contralto voice cut in.

M4A1 tensed. "I don't understand. What..."

"Long story short, Agent's defected. I'm not fighting for the other side, and I'm not a traitor to Griffin. Now could you come and pick us up already?!"

"Dropship, twelve o'clock!" shouted Agent in the background.

Tyres screeched over the comms channel.

Welrod tugged on her gloves. This could be a Sangvis deception. Agent could be imitating Dumont's voice to lure in Griffin forces. "Sir, are you - ?"

"Burning sarcophagus. Holy demon."

That reply reassured her much more than the sound of him talking. Welrod smiled. She resumed typing rapidly. "I'm sending you the coordinates for the extraction point."

"Copy that. Dumont out." He ended the call.

"What was that last part all about?" queried Helian, looking nonplussed.

"Code-phrases. The Commander and I devised a list of them. Those two specific ones – 'burning sarcophagus' and 'holy demon' - mean 'I'm not being held hostage' and 'I'm telling the truth.' At first, I thought this was a Sangvis trick. But now I'm certain that it's the Commander."

MG5 crossed her arms. "So this is what you got up to with him during those late-night chats."

"Among other things, yes."

M4A1 clenched a fist in front of her chest. "Miss Helian, I... I want to lead the mission to rescue the Commander!"

"Permission granted. Gather all combat-ready T-Dolls and go. Bring him home, M4A1."

M4A1 nodded and raced from the Command Room.

Welrod placed a hand on her bare hip. "Miss Helian, what about Agent?"

"I suppose we'll have to make some arrangements for her. Await further instructions. I need to inform Mr Kryuger of this development."

Unexpectedly, Commander Dumont's signal disappeared.

"His signal's gone!" reported MG5 to Helian. "His transmitter's either been damaged or destroyed!"

The grey-haired officer asked, "Have you logged his coordinates?"

"We have. It appears that he and Agent are further away from us than our FOB was."

"It'll take quite some time to reach them, then."

* * *

Dumont terminated the transmission, but left his signal on. Agent stood at the rear of the roofless jeep, one heel digging into the backseat, while her other foot was planted on the floor of the car. Her skirt fluttered as the cannons underneath it fired at the pursuers. Her white headpiece miraculously still hadn't gotten blown away.

Agent's vision was filled with sliding reticles, one for each of her guns. They locked onto four new targets, and she fired. Three of the Scouts got blasted out of the air and crashed to the ground. The fourth one twirled in mid-air, just barely dodging her shot. It continued its chase, followed by a dropship that housed additional Scouts. The Scout dropship could be described as a ginormous, jet-propelled metallic disc with an attached, angular section that served as the cockpit. The pink canopy contrasted sharply with the black hull, which had the Sangvis Ferri logo plastered on top. Fully rotatable cannons protruded from the face of the T-Doll carrier, and the top and sides of its metallic body. The hovering nuisances descended from beneath the T-Doll carrier in rows.

The Scouts flew closer to the jeep and opened fire. Agent's bubble shield materialised, enveloping not only the vehicle's occupants, but also its tyres. She wished for nothing more than to unleash her Key of Omens and annihilate these pests in one fell swoop.

The problem was that it took an hour for her shield to recharge after activating the Key of Omens. She would become as vulnerable as any other T-Doll. On their way out of the Griffin base, Commander Dumont had accurately suspected that her ability suffered a drawback, and she'd confirmed as much.

Agent waited for her targeting system to select four Scouts and lock onto them. The maid's laser cannons swivelled this way and that, adjusting their aim. The targeting software installed in her combat module was self-efficient, and often there was no need for her to interfere.

Her forcefield absorbed the Scouts' barrage. She observed their firing pattern. Once there was an opening, she dismissed her shield, and she picked off the Scouts four at a time. The reticles in her HUD instantly locked onto other enemies after each successful kill. When all of the Scouts were disposed of, the trailing dropship strafed the jeep.

The gynoid's energy barrier sprang up. It blocked the torrent of laser bolts just in time. She spotted three Sangvis VTOLs in the distance.

The Scout dropship flew to Agent's right, then surged towards the car without letting up on its salvo.

"It's trying to ram us!" warned Agent. Dumont sped up. The dropship was about to bump into them when he swerved left, hard. She nearly got knocked over. The ship's guns needed a moment to re-aim. That was enough for Agent to deactivate her barrier and pelt the side of the dropship with laserfire. The aircraft dipped and bobbed, its hull ablaze, before slamming into the dirt.

Skidding to a halt, the Scout dropship receded from view as the jeep sped onwards.

The Sangvis VTOLs were catching up. They were black tiltrotors, each one able to transport thirty T-Dolls. Outfitted with machine-guns and missile launchers, they fired a fusillade of rockets at the armoured car.

Too fast and too many for the human eye to keep track of all of them.

Agent, however, had no trouble.

She watched their trajectories, which initially seemed random. Some rockets flew in an overhead arc. Others zoomed right towards the jeep. A few missiles were angled such that they would strike the car's sides. 'They're remote-controlled…' Agent realised. 'Does she intend for my attention to be divided?'

"Are those missiles?!" yelled Dumont from the driver's seat. "She really wants to be thorough, doesn't she?"

"Indeed." Agent was already locking on to four projectiles. "Fret not, Commander. I'll take them out. Just drive normally. Evasive action is unnecessary."

"Why would it be unne - ?" The T-Doll loosed off four shots, hitting four missiles. They exploded in mid-air, blossoming into gargantuan fireballs. Multiple ear-splitting booms accompanied them.

"Right. It could throw your aim off," Dumont concluded.

That wasn't the end of it.

The other missiles were briefly obscured by the simultaneous eruptions. Her targeting system never lost track of them, though. Calculated flight paths and spatial coordinates popped up on Agent's HUD, overlapping with the quartet of reticles. The clutter in her vision didn't bother or hinder the maid in the slightest.

She fired off once more. Then again. And again. The space between her and the VTOLs was soon filled with clouds of flame.

Another volley of missiles streaked through the smoke.

'This time there's more of them. The first attempt was just to test my limits. Eliza's upping the ante.' Her breasts jiggled as she continued to discharge her hip-mounted cannons. Scarlet laser bolts collided against warheads without pause. Shot after shot ruptured missile after missile.

The onslaught continued.

All it took was one rocket. One projectile to fly past the streaking blaster bolts. Noticing this, Agent redirected one of her guns to shoot at it, while her other three cannons targeted the main volley.

The overhead missile slowed its descent, corkscrewed, and then surged down towards the jeep even faster than before, dodging all of Agent's attacks.

Agent paled. 'Shit! It's heading straight for us!'

"Incoming missile! Take evasive action!" she shouted, manifesting her domed forcefield. It would effortlessly withstand the missile, but the impact of it against Agent's barrier could send her through the underside of the car.

Dumont swerved out of the missile's way. Yet the rocket didn't correct its course. Dread raked across Agent's code as she finally understood the point of this attack. Eliza knew that the energy construct would be unaffected by the rocket.

The same couldn't be said for the ground beneath Agent.

There was a sliver of a gap between the bottom edge of her barrier and the terrain. This was enough for a shockwave to pass through.

The missile smashed into the ground to Agent's left – the car's right – and dirt and shrapnel got sprayed at the barrier enveloping the jeep. She reached out to Dumont, hoping to grab him and jump off the vehicle.

She was too late.

The shockwave caused by the rocket's impact catapulted the jeep, sending it spinning through the air. Dismissing her barrier, Agent leaped. She landed in a roll, her cannons out and ready. Behind the gynoid, the jeep bounced once, then twice, then thrice. It landed on its right side.

The trio of tiltrotors didn't relent. They drew closer to Agent, their attached machine-guns spitting out blaster bolts. Retreating towards the jeep, she returned fire.

'They must've run out of missiles,' Agent thought as she ducked behind the overturned jeep. The Commander was lying on his stomach.

"Get up, Dumont!" she yelled. "We have to go!"

The Commander didn't respond at all. Agent clenched her jaw. She would dispose of those airborne eyesores first. A dripping noise reached her audio receptors. It took her a moment to discover the source of it. Something was spilling out of a hole in the underside of the car. Agent quickly stepped back, recognising the smell that pervaded her olfactory sensors.

'The fuel tank's been ruptured!' Leaking petrol began pooling beside the tipped vehicle. 'One hit and we'll go up in flames!' The VTOLs' assault did not abate. She swept out of cover, blasting the left wing of the closest tiltrotor. The wing sparked and caught fire, causing the VTOL to spin uncontrollably. Its right wing clipped a neighbouring tiltrotor, which also went down.

The third VTOL, evidently piloted by someone with better reflexes, veered sideways, dodging the others.

One of the two tiltrotors spinning out of control was heading right for the jeep. Agent's optics widened. She snatched up the Commander's satchel and AK-47, then the man himself, throwing him over her shoulder, and ran.

Agent's forcefield encased her and Dumont a microsecond before the burning VTOL crashed into the car.

An explosion, followed by another, rang out behind her. Agent stopped and turned. Red-hot fragments of VTOL hull and car chassis showered the energy barrier. Two aircraft wreckages blazed on the road.

On guard, she watched the remaining troop carrier hover in mid-air for a few seconds, its guns trained on her. Then, it flew back the direction it came. She would've preferred to shoot the aircraft down, but with little to no cover, all it would take was one shot to end the Commander's life.

Agent stared in bewilderment. 'It's retreating. Why?' The VTOL touched down over four hundred meters away. 'I see. They're playing it safe. In any case, I have a few minutes.'

She dropped the Commander's gear. Stooping down, she pulled him off her shoulder and scrutinized him. His lip was busted, his face bruised, and his exoskeleton little more than scrap metal. He sported a fresh scar on his forehead.

She took off a glove and pressed two fingers to his neck. 'He's got a pulse, and he's breathing normally.'

Dumont stirred as the android pulled her glove back on. "Wha' happened?" the blonde man slurred.

"Our transport got flipped over, and you were knocked unconscious. How do you feel?"

"Like shit." His voice lost all traces of a slur.

"It's to be expected. Have you sustained any major injuries?"

The Commander clambered to his feet with a wince. "…I'm no medic, but think I might have a concussion."

They had neither the time nor the resources to treat that. He smiled. "I'll just carry on like this for now. I'll be fine." His expression became serious. "Gimme a sit-rep, Agent."

"I destroyed two of the troop transporters pursuing us. However, the third one has landed 411 meters south-east from our position. The ground units – snipers – are getting ready." She could see Jaegers running to take cover behind trees and rocks over three hundred meters away. They were fanning out.

Eliza's goal had been to slow her down. She sought to compel Agent to use the Key of Omens.

Taking this into account, as well as the snipers' movements, Agent calculated there was a 97.32% probability that the next wave of enemies would include heavy armour.

Dumont cocked his Kalashnikov, wearing his satchel again. "Any idea why they haven't resumed attacking us?"

"Because they're not the main assault team. _They_ are."

She gestured to a trio of approaching dropships. These ones differed from the Scout-carrying model. Two slanted wings on a wide, thin metal framework. A small, dark canopy. Each one's cargo was a spider-legged behemoth, suspended by magnetic clamps.

Dumont gasped. "Manticores?! They're bringing in Manticores…!"

"How predictable," droned Agent. "Overwhelm with armour, then flank. Eliza's using one of the tactics I taught her against me."

"Dunno 'bout you, but I don't have the kind of firepower needed to destroy one of those things."

"Immobilizing them is enough, Commander. Aim for the legs," she advised. Short of deploying her deadliest attack, it would take too long to destroy a Manticore without getting surrounded. Manticores made for efficient guards, thanks to their armaments and reinforced plating. However, due to their considerable bulk, they were extremely slow.

The Manticores could catch up to anyone on foot, though.

Dumont said, "We need to pick up the pace and get to the extraction point."

One Manticore-bearing dropship overtook the other two, flying over the ex-Ringleader and the Commander. 'Idiotic. Eliza is really showing her desperation here.'

Agent deactivated her forcefield. Turning around, she lifted her skirt and fired at the mag-clamps and the left-side legs of the spider-tank as the ship passed by. It shuddered, the cargo slipping from its mechanical grip. The Manticore dropped onto the ground with a thump, then immediately tipped over. Its remaining metallic limbs wriggled in the air, like that of an upended crab's.

The other two dropships exercised caution, unclamping their armoured units behind the burning ruins of the VTOLs and the jeep.

"It's high time we left, Commander." Agent and Dumont darted into the forest on the left side of the road.

* * *

Xavier sprinted like his life depended on it. His AK was slung on his back, bouncing against it with every step he took. Agent matched his pace, staying close to the Commander's side. They rushed through the forest, hopping over exposed roots and ducking beneath low branches.

"We're about a klick out from the rendezvous point," informed Agent.

Xavier's head throbbed, and his eyesight flashed white for a second. He supressed a wince. Running around with a potential concussion wasn't doing him any favours. But they had no choice. According to Agent, snipers were tracking them through the woodland.

They'd yet to start shooting, though. 'Probably afraid of giving away their exact hiding places. One shot and Agent will have 'em dead to rights.'

His arms swung as he leaped over a trench in the forest floor. Xavier hit the ground running. "Commander, hostiles – eight o'clock!" shouted his ally.

Xavier smirked. 'They're attacking as expected.' Agent was to his right. 'One or a dozen snipers won't be enough to overcome her, but I'm another story.'

His form-fitting shield up, he activated his hologram emitter. Hardlight copies depicting the man crowded at his back. He stopped and jumped behind the wide trunk of an oak. Readying his Kalashnikov, he peeked out. Xavier couldn't spy anyone through the dense foliage.

"I can't see anybody. You got eyes on 'em?" The Commander glanced at Agent, who was hiding behind an oak of her own.

"Affirmative." Impatience coloured her tone. "We have to keep moving, Dumont. If we stay a moment longer, that shall be enough time for them to pin us down, and we cannot have that." The stomps of two Manticores echoed throughout the forest as all trees in their path were knocked down or shot to smithereens.

'She's got thermal vision, or something to that effect, no doubt. Handy.'

"Take 'em out," he ordered coolly. "Tired of these cyclopses stalking us."

Agent clicked her tongue. "As you wish, _Commander_." Her cannons swung out from behind the oak, and blasted through the vegetation, holing whichever plants were in the way. He listened to the thumps of two bodies hitting the ground.

Then the Jaegers instantly began sniping at them in earnest. Pieces of bark got chipped away from the oak Xavier used for cover by enemy rifles. His holograms shielding him, he stuck his head out, AK-47 at the ready.

One blaster bolt pierced the head of the projection right before him. Figuring out where the shot had come from, he focused his fire on a bush on top of the hill to his right. Three rounds pierced his target, and the body of a Jaeger tumbled out of the bush, rolling down the hill.

The exchange of fire between Agent and the remaining snipers never ceased. A sulfuric stench, mixing with the scent of grass, flooded his sinuses and he gagged. His eyes watered.

Despite his swimming vision, he spotted another Jaeger about to shoot him. He persevered, his AK spitting lead. The ponytailed sniper dropped out of a tree, breaking her neck when she crashed to the ground.

The sound of blasterfire died down. All he heard was the Manticores in the distance.

Xavier wiped away his tears. He faced Agent, whose guns were smoking. "I took out two. How many did you get?"

"Fifteen." Which left at least thirteen Jaegers for them to contend with, if reinforcements hadn't arrived.

"Picking up any more signals with your mini-map?"

"Negative. They may have circled us already."

"We won't know until we get moving." He recommenced running towards the extraction point, Agent on his heels.

* * *

Their tense journey was underscored by the rumbles of the Manticores behind them.

'They're so loud that it's hard to hear anything else,' Agent thought. Currently, the likelihood of her catching the rustle of a thermoptic cloak or the click of a sniper rifle was low.

Her irritation with the Commander permeated the android's neural cloud. 'We never should've stopped to take out the Jaegers stalking us. The survivors capitalised on our delay and more than likely went on ahead.' Dumont's breathing grew heavier.

'If I carried him, we'd be making progress much faster,' she realised.

"If you're that exhausted, then I can carry you the rest of the way," offered Agent.

"God no. I can walk on my own, thanks."

"Hmph." She remained vigilant, checking her mini-map constantly without fail. Thus far, apart from the signals coming from the Manticores on their tail, she was detecting nothing.

The Jaegers' notorious skill at concealing themselves was irrelevant. She was equipped with thermal vision and she could pick out their IFFs no matter how effectively they masked them. After all, subordinate Jaegers weren't supposed to hide from their commanding Ringleader.

'That'll definitely change in due course. I imagine Eliza will update their signal concealment protocols very soon.' Her former Master hadn't been able to do that yet, what with hunting down Agent being her main concern.

What surprised Agent was that there hadn't been any ambushes ever since she and Dumont had set foot in the forest. They were running over half a kilometer.

They came to a ravine, and Agent's suspicions were confirmed: the Jaegers had overtaken them.

The evidence was the state of the footbridge over the ravine.

Dumont muttered, "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

Its remains, to be exact. She inspected the singed ends of the severed ropes. "Burn marks. Very recent." Her visage darkened. She faced him. "This is what happens when you don't listen to me, Commander. We get flanked and cut off."

The ravine didn't get any narrower the further it went in either direction.

New signals pinged on Agent's mini-map. They were originating from the other side of the ravine. Her optics switched to thermal.

"Snipers! Get down!"

Dumont ducked behind a rock near the edge. Agent attempted to pinpoint the sources of the signals. No matter how well a T-Doll's cooling system operated, the body still exuded heat. Sangvis Ferri's solution had been the thermoptic camouflage cloak. It allowed T-Dolls to blend in with their surroundings by reducing the amount of detectable heat released from their mainframes or dummies. This was not a foolproof technology. It minimized, rather than cancelling out altogether. The sensitivity of Agent's thermal vision had been enhanced such that she could detect even the tiniest amount of body heat, concealed or otherwise.

She'd give credit where credit was due: the Jaegers had hidden themselves well. She never would have discerned their locations with the naked eye.

Hiding from her thermal vision was useless, though. Much like their pitiful attacks. They sniped at her head continuously. She dodged their shots, her cannons locking on to four unique heat signatures. A heartbeat later, Agent gunned down the same number of Jaegers.

They were meant to delay her and Dumont, until the Manticores caught up. Her cyberoptics glinted as four more snipers fell. Satisfaction inserted itself into her code.

Agent jerked her head to the side. A blaster bolt seared a spot on the tree behind her. With a scowl, she retaliated. Her shots penetrated the visor of the ninth Jaeger, bowling her over and out of sight.

'Four to go. The Manticores are getting closer!' Their footfalls became louder and louder, shaking the forest floor.

The quartet of hip-attached cannons drew beads on the final Jaegers, dispatching them with simultaneous headshots.

Agent willed her vision to return to normal.

It was there and then the spider-tanks made themselves known. They marched forward, their legs drumming the ground. Fallen tree branches crunched underneath them.

No obstacles stood between her and the Manticores.

Dumont, posed in a crouch, pointed his AK-47 at one of the tank-like androids. They were rapidly closing in.

Agent felt her circuit board tingle. 'Forty meters... thirty-five meters... thirty meters... twenty-five meters... they're going to shoot any moment now!'

If she held her ground and engaged the Manticores, she would require the Key of Omens for a swift victory. After its activation, she'd be unable to protect herself and the Commander as efficiently as before.

That was unacceptable.

In a snap, she strode over to the Commander, grabbing him by his collar. She dragged him to the edge.

"Agent, wait! Wait! What are you doing?!"

"Throwing you over to the other side," she said, bunching her fingers in the fabric of his crimson coat. She was strong enough to make the throw. The Commander would suffer some bruises, and perhaps a broken bone. But that was preferable to the alternative.

She hurled him across the ravine. Surprisingly, he didn't scream. Dumont landed and rolled away from its brink. He groaned as he lay on the ground.

Without a proper running start, she couldn't make the jump.

The Manticores halted. Their weapons primed and powered up.

Agent accessed her shield's settings. A menu popped up on her HUD. She dialled down the forcefield's absorption rate by 30%. At its regular configuration, her forcefield fully absorbed the energy of any laser blast, bullet, or grenade explosion. By the decreasing the absorption rate, she was allowing some residual energy to remain, which would propel her. How far depended on the firepower of the Manticores.

Her internal scenario simulator computed that there was an 83.46% chance that she would be fired at as she jumped. The odds were higher with her shield down.

Agent ran towards the edge of the ravine and leaped. One Manticore's heavy cannon discharged. She brought her forcefield up. The chasm blurred by her as she got catapulted across it.

The Commander scrambled out of the way. Agent crashed through five trees before she hit the forest floor, leaving a trench in her wake. Leaves and dirt flew everywhere. Once she came to a complete stop, she disengaged the bubble-like forcefield.

Dumont ran up to her. "You're crazy," he gasped. They were out of the Manticores' range. Luckily, the spider-tanks themselves couldn't jump across.

Agent arched an eyebrow. "It worked, did it not?" She brushed twigs and clumps of soil off her shoulders, then her skirt. "You certainly were a fine wellspring of suggestions back there. You may have even come up with a plan. Right before we'd get shot," she said drily.

"You did. Get shot, I mean. How'd you figure it would work?"

"Eliza would never leave my fate to uncertain doom. After all, there could be a chance that I would survive the fall. She must've thought that even if I defended myself, I would just absorb the energy from the attack." Her lips curved into a smug smile. "I may have served her for a long time, but she still doesn't know everything about me. She, on the other hand, is even more predictable than a Griffin piece of garbage."

"Right. We gotta keep moving."

"Any new injuries, Commander? I tried to be careful, but you humans are rather delicate."

"You were as gentle as a punch to the face. Almost gave me a heart attack, too."

"You're just proving my point."

"I can still run and fight. That's good enough for me."

She pinned him with a look.

"Agent, my head's no worse off than before."

"You better not have brain damage. Otherwise, who's going to make my case to your superiors?"

She checked the coordinates for the extraction. "This way, Commander."

She took a step forward, and froze. Multiple blips appeared in clusters on her mini-map. The sources of those signals were closing in on her and the Commander, and they were coming from every direction.

"Eliza's sending Brutes after us," concluded Agent. "Move!"

Dumont and the former Second-in-Command broke into a sprint. They dashed to a clearing before the first wave of Brutes assailed them. Dumont ducked as a knife sailed for his head, missing him by a hair's breadth as it got embedded in the tree beside him.

He drew his AK-47 and fired in bursts, downing a few of the sword-wielders. The more persistent ones got back up, and resumed charging. Agent didn't bother with the lock-on; she simply mowed them down in droves.

Despite both their efforts, the Brutes swarmed them. They piled on, replacing fallen lookalikes. One Brute slashed at Dumont. A holographic copy of him materialised, taking the blow. It dissipated, and the Brute got her head blown off.

Agent detected even more IFFs. Fire-teams, consisting of Vespids, took up positions on a ridge overlooking the clearing. The maid and the Commander ended up standing back-to-back.

One of the Brutes got within stabbing range. Agent blasted two holes through her - one in the torso, another in the head - and activated her shield. The Brutes, frenzied, hacked and slashed at it. Crimson interlocking hexagons on the transparent dome's surface glimmered. The scent of sulfur from Agent's smouldering guns filled the interior.

The Commander's tactic with the grenades wouldn't work here. Too much open space.

'Like last time, they're stalling us. But what for?'

She got her answer in the form of clicking claws that belonged to skittering, ankle-high T-Dolls.

Dumont frowned. "Are those… mine-bots?"

Agent looked over. Indeed, they were. Originally property of the military, they had been captured and reprogrammed to act in the interests of Sangvis Ferri. These were essentially AI-controlled mobile landmines. Due to the meagre stock, Eliza hadn't seen fit to deploy them.

Until now.

"Yes. It appears Eliza is taking advantage of my weakness."

"I didn't even know SF had these things… None of my T-Dolls ever came up against mines."

"Like the Manticores, we acquired these models from the military. Sangvis Ferri doesn't have many of them, and they're a one-use type."

The mine-bots were painted a sandy colour, with a scarlet-lensed camera for an eye. Crawling on four legs, they had short cylindrical bodies and were smaller than Dinergates.

"Don't be fooled by the fact that they're tiny. These things pack quite a punch," Agent told the Commander.

"Are they pressure- or proximity-sensitive?"

"Pressure-sensitive."

The first mine-bot to come up to the forcefield bumped into it with an electronic warble. Then, it burrowed into the ground.

Dumont blanched. "Shit! It's gonna surface inside the shield!"

Agent heard something creep underground through the soil. Electricity pulsated along her circuits, mimicking a frantic heartrate. The landmine droids had weak signals, so it was a challenge detecting them.

'Who's it going to come for first? Me or Dumont?'

Heightening the sensitivity of her audio receptors, she paid attention to the ground. The automated mine was about to appear.

"Move your right foot, Dumont! Move it now!"

He heeded her warning barely in time. Dumont changed his footing right before the mine-bot emerged, primed to detonate. It stopped in the spot where the sole of his right shoe had been.

'That was close,' Agent thought. 'They're going to take up all the space on the ground inside the shield so that no matter where we step, we'll get blown up.'

Other mine-bots began surfacing one-by-one. Each landmine beeped, slightly compressed. Agent set her forcefield to stationary mode so that it wouldn't move when she did. This was in order to prevent it from setting off a mine. Soon, she and Dumont were running out of places to stand. The ex-Ringleader suddenly scooped him up in a bridal carry. Glaring at her, he wrapped his left arm around her neck for support. The Kalashnikov was in his right hand.

"Next time warn me before you do something like that," he said. "…Thanks."

"At least you remember your manners."

She couldn't move forward. Not without being blocked by the Brutes or risking stepping on a mine.

'I have no choice but to rely on my ultimate ability.' When everything in front of her would be destroyed, she'd be dealing with attacks from behind. Another automated landmine cropped up. Agent moved her left leg before the mine-bot pushed against her boot.

The crest at the front of her shield shifted as it amassed power. The Brutes standing opposite it didn't move. Eliza would tolerate those losses, as long she completed her objective. The Vespids would also be caught in the impending explosion. Everyone at Agent's back would be spared.

Seeing this, Dumont shouted, "Wait a second, Agent! If you use that attack, we'll get wiped out by a missile strike!"

"And the landmines won't take care of us first? In case you haven't noticed, there's only one other spot for me to put my foot down, and it's too far away for me to reach without doing the splits."

He looked her in the eye, his expression dead serious. "You've got holograms of your own, right? Can they support your weight?"

"…Yes. What're you planning, Commander?"

"We're next to a hill. I'm thinking of using our hard-light projections to get up there." To her left stood a rocky prominence. The crest on the forcefield ceased all movement, releasing its build-up of power.

"They'll start shooting at us," she said, referring to the Vespids on the ridge.

"Well, we can both take a couple of hits." Dumont's form-fitting barrier came to life. "You just have to make a hole in the top of your shield."

It wasn't designed to be able to do that, but Agent improvised. She lifted and manipulated the edge of the forcefield such that she created a giant keyhole-shaped gap. The slit that ran down the side of the dome was too narrow to shoot through. Brutes clawed at it, unable to get a grip.

The gap at the top was just wide enough for one person to pass through.

Hard-light replicas of Dumont formed, and he used them as footholds to climb up. The instant he popped out of the opening, Vespids fired at him. He climbed out and shot two of them dead before recalling his holo-clones.

A landmine started emerging right beneath Agent's right boot. She raised it, balancing on one leg. The gynoid manifested two holo-clones on either side of her. They levitated above the landmines slightly.

Dumont arranged his holographic constructs into a series of steps. He rushed up them, leaping onto the hill before they all got shot and dissolved into motes of light.

He returned fire at the Vespids while Agent climbed out the top of the transparent dome. Some of the rifle Dolls shot at her instead of the Commander.

Several blaster bolts zinged towards Agent's face.

She couldn't block them all.

Not by herself, anyway.

A stoic replica of the ex-Ringleader came into being, her holographic frame intercepting the shots. They failed to destroy the hologram, which pulled up the hem of her flickering skirt and hard-light duplicates of Agent's cannons blazed away at the Vespids.

Her holo-clones weren't very accurate, since they lacked the targeting system installed in her combat module.

Agent picked herself up. Copying Dumont, she recalled the pair of holograms below her and, along with one more, lined them up to create what was, in essence, a bridge in mid-air.

'Using hard-light duplicates as stepping stones... I wouldn't have thought of it,' Agent admitted inwardly as she rushed across. Her stiletto heels clacked against rock, and she turned off her holograms and barrier. Inevitably, some Brutes ran over the landmines, triggering explosions that launched their shrapnel-pierced mainframes skyward. The survivors gave chase to Agent, scrambling over one another to get to her.

"Not a bad plan, Commander," she said, rejoining him. "Now we need to push forward and break their formation." She provided cover fire while he advanced. The hill they were on was actually a ridge that ran parallel to the one occupied by the Vespids.

It wasn't long before the last of the Vespids fell. The Brutes kept ascending the ridge, only to get gunned down by the Commander and Agent. No reinforcements under Eliza's control came.

* * *

Surrounded by the corpses of Brutes, Agent and Dumont strode forward. No more Sangvis signals came up on her HUD's mini-map.

"Eliza's ordered her troops to withdraw," Agent notified. "I suspect that she's setting up another ambush."

Dumont ejected a casing from his AK's chamber. "Any chance she's figured out our rendezvous point?"

"She most likely knows."

Rapid footfalls approached.

"Hmph. How polite of my former master. She waited for us to dispose of the Brutes before sending in the newest wave." Priming her cannons, she glanced at Dumont. He was already crouching before the remains of a gargantuan oak, the Kalashnikov's stock pressed against his shoulder. She moved to stand at his side.

"How many? And which type?" he queried.

Agent consulted her mini-map. "Fifty signals, not including dummies. They're coming in from all directions. As for the type..." She listened out for the repeated jingle of metal, ammo belts bouncing against feed boxes.

"... Strikers. They carry gatling guns."

Dumont didn't even blink. He peered out into the woods ahead. "I can hear 'em comin'. They got any weaknesses?"

"They're fast, but fragile. Pay attention to their visors. Yellow means they're about to start shooting. And red is when they are shooting."

Strikers had overall light frames and strong arms so that they could quickly move from position to position with their tri-barrelled mini-guns. As soon as Agent glimpsed a tuft of purplish hair, she gunned down its owner.

Then another.

And another.

And so on.

"I'd suggest killing them before they get a chance to fire," she shouted over the gunfire. The Commander didn't answer. He was too busy cutting down Strikers. The stench of sulfur was a reassurance to Agent; it meant that her weapons functioned well.

The first Strikers to act more smartly took cover just out of Agent's view, and then unleashed hell. The maid drew up her energy field, protecting herself and the Commander from torrents of laser bolts on all sides.

He lowered his assault rifle and looked at her. "From your look of confidence, I'm guessing you've got a plan?"

"Indeed, I do, Commander. Your escape method earlier is actually an inspiration. You better go prone."

"Why...?"

She smirked at his visible confusion. "So that you don't get in my way. Or rather, in the way of my guns." At certain positions, the dome's border warped to give four slits that ran up the construct's surface. They were so thin that not even a single laser bolt could pass through them. Stopping slightly above Agent's waist, the ends of the apertures swelled and widened. She shoved her guns through the ports she'd made before any hits could land on her, ensuring that there was no gap between the forest floor and the bubble of energy.

Her weapons could withstand most small arms fire such that they wouldn't even dent. However, Striker gatling guns would be able to chip away at them over time.

Although the Strikers had primitive AIs like the Brutes, they weren't mindless. They immediately targeted the protruding laser cannons. Agent alternated between downing Strikers and receding her guns, fitting them through newly formed ports which she would close seconds later to create others at higher or lower elevations. The guns swivelled about every so often. When protruding, their movements were in sync with those of the makeshift openings.

"It's like whack-a-mole…" muttered Dumont, lying on his stomach.

The Strikers struggled to keep up. They began spraying at the hemispherical construct senselessly.

'Useless. All you're making me do is be even more precise with my timing.'

The visored gunners couldn't cover every square inch of her energy field with blaster bolts. She took advantage of this.

Once all the mini-gunners were eliminated, Agent deactivated the dome. She gripped the hem of her skirt with both hands. 'If it weren't for the incidents with the mine-bots, I would've sacrificed my barrier in order to wipe out those Strikers.'

Coughing, the Commander shakily rose to his feet. "...Picking up any other signals?"

"None for now."

He bent over, hands on his knees. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was gonna go deaf from all the machine-gun fire. How much further till our extraction point?"

"Two hundred and twenty-six meters, straight ahead."

The Commander straightened. "What d'you reckon the odds are Eliza knows where we're headed?"

"I expect a trap." Agent computed that there was a 97.89% probability of one being laid out for them.

"Any predictions for what it could include?"

* * *

She ran.

The Commander peeked over his shoulder. "Well, you were right about these things popping up!"

Agent shouted, "Unfortunately, yes!"

She was sprinting through the streets of an abandoned town, once more carrying Dumont bridal style. It was solely for the sake of not getting slowed down by him. Several crimson spherical Dolls zoomed after her.

Their faceplates were white like bleach. The stubby little limbs attached to their levitating bodies were more for aesthetics than for any practical purpose.

They were called Goliaths.

Dumont cocked his rifle.

"Don't waste your ammo on them!" Agent yelled. "They're built to withstand small-arms fire!"

He growled. "Then how're we supposed to shake 'em?!"

It appeared that these models were rigged to detonate upon physical contact with the target. The durability and explosive power of the Red Goliaths meant that each one had an extremely dense hull and a bulky payload.

Goliaths did have one flaw.

Deploying one of her holograms, she rushed away from it. Agent looked back. The Goliaths were clustered around the flickering duplicate, eagerly reaching out. The first one to grab the hologram blew up. The other Goliaths got caught in the humongous explosion.

Their weakness was that they couldn't tell apart T-Dolls and holograms.

The Commander pointed to her left. "More Goliaths, ten o'clock!"

This group was much bigger than the one that'd just gotten destroyed. They floated out of every alleyway, window or doorway in view. Never-ending streams of red Dolls.

'We'll have to circle around them to make it to the extraction point.' Agent turned around and ran back the way she came. The gynoid ducked into an alley and raced to the end of it. Goliaths were hot on her heels.

She gasped as a solitary self-destructing model blocked the exit. It started floating towards her. Undeterred, Agent kept moving and fired relentlessly at the approaching Goliath. Each shot knocked it back further and further. Her hip cannons couldn't destroy it, but she could use them to put some distance between her and the Goliath.

The cannonfire propelled it out of the alleyway, providing mere nanoseconds for Agent to escape. She leaped out onto the street, passing by the Doll she'd shot at. Soon, it joined the others pursuing her.

When most of them ended up behind her, she employed her second hardlight projection. The Goliaths drew towards a stoic mirror image of Agent. It stood in the middle of the road.

When one of the self-destructing robots touched the hologram, it erupted. The Goliaths surrounding it were reduced to metallic shards.

* * *

'Last hologram,' thought Agent. 'I've used up the other four to destroy a total of 241 Goliaths.'

As before, the result was identical. The Goliaths were lured in by the holographic bait. The first one to reach it self-destructed, obliterating the units in its proximity.

'Make that 278 now.'

More kept coming, still. Eliza undoubtedly was going to use up her whole reservoir to kill Agent. They were approaching from every direction, and closing in.

"Guess it's my turn to drop a decoy," murmured Dumont in her arms.

"Yours might not even work. They were sent after me."

"I've just got the one," said the blonde man louder. He spawned a hardlight replica of himself behind the android holding him. To her surprise, the closest Goliaths began flocking to it. The ensuing detonation cleared a path for Agent, and she bolted.

She arrived at the plaza of the town. A fountain, chipped-away and dried up, resided at the center of it. She turned her back to the fountain. The other entries to the plaza were blocked by rubble. It meant that the low-hovering robots couldn't sneak up on her and the Commander.

'We're out of options! I've no choice but to use my trump card!'

A transparent dome encased the pair. The scarlet hexagonal pattern on its surface pulsed intermittently. The enormous red crest at the front of the hemisphere split into three, and began amassing power.

Goliaths stormed the plaza. 'Hundreds of them wall-to-wall... Dammit. It's too late for me to shoot them back.' Agent gritted her teeth in frustration. Altering the dome in any way at this stage would disrupt the build-up of energy.

The Goliaths floated closer, bobbing slightly. The ones in front stretched out their stubby arms.

Agent felt like her torso was being compressed. She swallowed.

The vermillion orb of light between the V-shaped pieces of the holographic crest grew in size and intensity. Lightning crackled around it. The upper part of the emblem had lost all colour.

The Goliath leading the charge extended its arm, its gaze meeting hers. The units flanking it were about to circle around the bubble protecting Agent and Dumont.

Terror flooded her neural cloud. 'No! If they manage to flank us, we're done for!'

A claw, attached to a stubby limb, was a hair's breadth away from tapping the dome.

"Tch. Disappear from this world, you wastes of metal." Scorn twisted her features.

The dome shattered.

The power released from it swept across the plaza, sparing nothing in its path. Any and all Goliaths in the way were completely erased.

That wasn't the end of Agent's troubles, though.

The Sangvis Doll tensed when her sensors detected a signal very close behind her. She turned and leaped away from the source: a single Goliath. It had almost grabbed her dress. Her hip-mounted cannons blazed away, sending the spherical robot careening into the fountain. Part of it got smashed and stone fragments clattered on the pavement.

'That was a close call!' Agent glowered. 'Shit! I've got nothing left that could destroy this Goliath!'

Dumont ordered, "Keep pushing it back."

"And then what?"

"Just do it already."

She was tempted to dump him on the pavement because of his vagueness. Nonetheless, she complied. The Goliath got knocked back to the other side of the plaza, its plating smouldering intensely. A hardlight copy of the Commander manifested and surged towards the robot.

Agent scowled at the man in her arms. "You lied to me. You said that you didn't have any more - "

An explosion rang out. She got launched backwards, landing in a heap. Dumont groaned beside her, turning over.

'I underestimated how big the explosion would be. I thought we'd be safe at that range,' admitted the android as she pushed herself up. Fortunately, her weapons were still intact.

"Of course I lied. I just can't believe she fell for it..."

Dumont pointed. Agent eyed the diminutive figure surrounded by mini-gunners on the roof of the building opposite her. Strikers were gathering on rooftops and at windows, doors and the entrance that she had passed through.

"I remembered earlier that Dreamer listened in through Destroyer's comms," Dumont explained. "I figured that whoever was bossing the Goliaths around was likely doing the same. I wanted to get her to go all in and send as many of those damn things after us. And I can't believe it actually worked."

Agent could scarcely believe it herself. 'That wouldn't have worked against a more cautious Command-type Doll.' Granted, she was annoyed that Dumont had deceived her, but using her strongest ability against the Goliaths had been inevitable.

"Think you're so clever, human?" called the distinct figure on the roof. Jet-powered thigh-high boots sheathed her short legs. She wore tiny shorts, a tube top and a choker. Dark hair flowed freely down below her small waist. Triangular metal flaps, meant to resemble animal ears, adorned her head. A pair of enormous triggerless machine guns were mounted on mechanical protuberances emerging from her back. "I was never counting on the Goliaths to actually do Agent in. What matters is the result: you are defenceless and have fallen right into my trap!"

"Should I applaud, Judge?" sneered the besieged android.

On his feet again, Dumont whispered, "She's wrong... Manhole, seven o'clock, two meters away from you..."

'No way up or out. But down remains a possibility.'

"I won't give you time to do so! Execute them!"

The Strikers' miniguns whirred, about to fire.

"Now, Agent!" cried Dumont.

Suddenly, she got engulfed in smoke. Her HUD glitched. The targeting system was acting up. She forced a reboot.

Switching to thermal, Agent spasmed as she got shot from all sides. Diving towards the manhole, she punched through its cover and yanked it off. She plunged into the manhole.

Agent landed in a crouch. Her HUD finished rebooting. The minimap and reticles were back to normal. The maid's shoulders hitched when she felt something drip on her back.

She looked up.

The Commander was climbing down the ladder. His right arm was bleeding. She moved out of the way.

Above them, the miniguns hadn't stopped shooting yet and the smoke was still thick.

"You could've warned me you were about to drop a smoke grenade," Agent grumbled.

"And clue in that Ringleader that something was gonna happen?" Dumont countered. "We're just lucky that last Goliath blasted us close enough to this manhole." Using a dagger, he sliced through his right sleeve near the elbow. Then he produced some gauze from his satchel and wrapped it around his wounded forearm.

Agent switched to night vision and inspected her surroundings. Mould clung to stained, mostly dry walls.

She checked her weapons. 'Still operational.'

Her dress was in tatters.

Again.

Torn skirt, bullet-holed shirt, black bra exposed. Portions of the synth-skin on her arms had gotten chipped away by laserfire.

Stockings were ripped. Boots were intact. Garter belt and panties on display.

Dumont glanced up. "We need to move. I don't think that Ringleader - what's her name? Judge? - has yet realised that we escaped her little trap."

Amazingly, the double-bun her hair was in hadn't gotten undone and neither of her eyes had been shot. Her countenance had barely suffered any damage.

The Commander activated a flashlight that he'd dug out of his bag.

They withdrew from the scene. While walking, Agent initiated a systems diagnostic scan. The result popped up on the left side of her vision seconds later. None of the blaster bolts had hit her modules, her CPU, or her motor control system hardware.

'A miracle, to be sure. Other than some cosmetic damage, I'm unharmed.'

"That Ringleader being here isn't a coincidence. She's a direct counter to you, isn't she?"

She looked over her shoulder. Dumont stared.

"What makes you say that?" she tested.

"Eliza wouldn't send just anyone. Every Doll type we've faced so far - Striker, Goliath, Brute, mine-bot - was deployed with the express purpose of assassinating you. This Ringleader's no exception."

"How astute of you, Commander." Agent focused on the path ahead. "You are correct. Judge was built to be Eliza's bodyguard and protect her from all sorts of enemies. Even potential ones."

"A bodyguard and an assassin? I'm guessing she's gotten a lot of upgrades to fulfil both roles."

"She has a barrier of her own. Unlike mine, though, it only protects her from the front. She's got armour, too."

"What's her special move?"

"Corrosive stomp. It leaves a pool of electrical energy with a radius of five meters that melts whatever comes into contact with it."

"...Noted. What about her weaknesses?"

Agent couldn't recall anything. Eliza had always kept Judge's training secret. She'd managed to learn about the bodyguard's modifications only because the leader of Sangvis Ferri had been too slow to heavily encrypt the relevant files.

"Have her optics got armour?" asked Dumont.

"Don't be absurd. Of course they don't."

"There you go. A weak spot."

Agent glared at him. "You make it sound so easy when you know it won't be."

"If destroying her's too hard for_ you_, then disarm and immobilize her."

"You don't need to rile me up, Dumont. I will settle for nothing less than Judge's utter destruction. ...It's a good thing she's here and not Scarecrow. Our escape route would've been blocked off then. She would've accounted for every possibility."

"Kinda weird to hear you praise someone. She didn't exactly leave much of an impression."

Scarecrow had been the first Ringleader to encounter Dumont's echelons. Yet, she and the Commander had never gotten a chance to speak to each other.

"Her forte isn't combat, it's data analysis and tactics. Enough about her for now. I expect that Judge has sent squads to secure every exit out of this town." The raven-haired shielder flashed a smirk. "That means her forces are thinning out. She's expecting us to leave the town when, in fact, this is exactly where we need to be." She and the Commander were supposed to be evacuated from here.

"That's gonna be a problem for whoever's coming to pick us up." The maidservant could imagine the man frowning.

"We'll have to worry about ourselves first. Flanking Judge and taking her out should be our priority."

"...Agreed," Dumont relented. "Even if she does, as you've said, spread out her teams, she won't give up hunting us."

* * *

"Cease firing!"

The shooting stopped instantly. Strikers let their miniguns spin down. Too impatient to wait for the smoke to clear, Judge adjusted her optics to peer through it.

She froze.

There were no bullet-riddled corpses. Agent and that human were nowhere to be found.

'How?! How did they get away!?' Judge clenched her fists. 'The plaza's completely surrounded!'

She surveyed the scene more carefully. 'There!' An open manhole, with its punched-through cover lying a few meters away.

"So that's how they escaped... Dammit!"

Judge sensed her built-in communicator, installed next to her left temple, vibrating. That meant lady Eliza was calling to check on her progress.

Judge accepted the call.

"Have you eliminated Agent?"

"No, mistress... not yet. She and the human have fled into the sewers."

"She's still alive? Have you not trapped her yet?"

"I did, but the traitor still managed to elude me. I do have some good news, though. She's no longer able to shield herself."

"Lock down every exit out of that town, and find her. If an hour elapses, she'll be able to protect herself again and we cannot have that. Send some Scout squads to locate Agent and the Griffin Commander."

Eliza terminated the transmission before Judge could say anything. The bodyguard subconsciously mimicked a sigh.

Truthfully, this was the first time she was so far from her mistress's side and on a mission of the highest priority. 'Not that protecting lady Eliza isn't my highest priority - it is! ...But this task takes precedence, according to her. Where Dreamer and Alchemist have failed, _I_ will succeed.'

Using her command module, Judge relayed orders to the units linked to her. "I want squads guarding every point of entry into the town. Scout teams 61 to 85, go down into the sewers and fan out. Flush out Agent and the human."

The squad leaders acknowledged her instructions.

Crossing her arms, she turned her nose up and shut her eyes. 'It's time to finally see which of us is the superior model, Agent...'

* * *

"Next time you reach for a smoke grenade, Commander, please remember this: it'll cause my targeting system to play up," informed Agent. "It's only for a second or two, though, until the smoke is vented out and the system is rebooted."

"Still, that could be the difference between life and death. Now I get why you looked so pissed off earlier. Why don't you keep your vents running all the time, then, to avoid that problem?"

"I'd need to recharge a lot more often. And I certainly do not wish to run out of electricity during combat."

"Huh. Makes sense. Do you know if Judge is affected by smoke the same way you are?"

"I've never seen her fight or train, so I cannot say. She claims to be based off me, however."

Dumont hummed. "I bet that she can lock on to her targets like you."

"She does have the necessary software installed."

"Great. Judge has high accuracy and a forcefield, and can melt enemies into goop. Anything else I should know about?"

"Her height is a sensitive issue for her." Frustrated, Agent pulled at her glove as she walked. "…I'd share more intel if I had it, Commander."

"You've still given me plenty to work with, Agent. I would prefer to avoid any patrols on the way to Judge, though."

She came to a halt beside a vertical rusting ladder. "Luckily, we won't have to deal with any Scouts in the sewers. You go first."

Raising an eyebrow, he put away the flashlight before he started climbing up. At the top of the ladder, he lifted the manhole cover and peeked out.

"Coast is clear."

They both climbed out and Agent replaced the manhole cover. Her vision reset to normal.

Dumont clutched his assault rifle. "So, are we heading back to the plaza?"

"We won't find Judge there. She's already relocated by now. After we evaded the best possible trap she could've prepared for us, she'll want to assassinate me herself."

Agent's stiletto boots clicked as she strutted away from the manhole. "The church is where we'll find Judge."

Dumont followed after her. "What makes you so sure?"

"It's a ruin and there's little to no cover. She's likely ordered Scouts to draw us out and towards her. Let's pay her a visit before they get there."

* * *

The church in the abandoned town was missing its roof, its domes and most of its walls. Agent remembered that a group of humans who'd refused to flee the town had ran into the church for safe refuge. They hadn't survived for long.

The bombed-out building was three hundred meters away. Judge stood in front of it, her arms folded. Her back-mounted machine guns were trained on the duo.

"I'm not even surprised that you managed to evade my patrols. But aren't you going to come closer? At that range, you just might miss, traitor," snarled Judge.

Her face was in Agent's crosshairs.

'And risk stepping on one of the mines that you've no doubt planted around this place? Who do you take me for, Judge?' The ex-Ringleader let off a salvo before diving for cover. A purple wall of energy sprang up in front of Judge without blocking her weaponry. The laser rounds splattered against it, dissolving into motes of light. The bodyguard's MGs barked as they concentrated fire on the chipped-away monument that Agent and Dumont were hiding behind.

Shards of rock got sprayed everywhere. Shortly afterwards, the gunfire died down.

"I've got no reason to be courteous to a traitor, but I'll tell you this much: the moment you so much as peek out from behind that statue, I'll blast you to bits, you piece of shit!"

Agent's synth-skin prickled.

A moment of silence.

"If you're not going to show yourselves, then I'll just have to make you!" yelled Judge.

The maid heard a pin hitting the tarmac. She saw Dumont's eyes widen as understanding dawned on him.

"Take this!"

Something bounced on the ground twice and rolled to a stop near her right boot. It was a frag grenade. If she wanted to kick it away, she'd have to step into Judge's line of fire.

Beside her, the Commander tensed. Agent instantly shot at the ground beside the frag, sending it flying into the air in a shower of tarmac fragments. The moment a fragment aligned with the airborne grenade, between it and her, she locked on and blasted the piece of tarmac. It got propelled forward and collided with the frag, knocking it away.

Not two seconds later, it exploded out of range.

"Clever trick," admitted Judge grudgingly. "I really thought that'd get you to move."

Agent gestured wordlessly for the Commander to hand his satchel over. She accepted it, and after rifling through the bag, produced a smoke canister. 'Judge's likely increased the sensitivity of her audio receptors to hear everything we say or do. She can probably even hear the Commander's breathing.'

The former second-in-command pulled out a flashbang with her free hand. Dumont put his gas mask on and gave a thumbs up. Vents inside her mainframe activated as she tossed the smoke grenade at their feet. This way, her aiming software wouldn't be impaired by the gas cloud consuming her and the blonde man.

She yanked the pin off the flashbang and hurled it over the monument.

A single shot sounded.

Two halves of a flashbang casing landed on the road.

Agent was alarmed. 'Judge can see through the smoke well enough to shoot a small object out of the air...' New lines of code shunted out the fear she'd just felt. Her calmness returned. 'If that's the case, why hasn't she approached us? Why is she playing it safe?' She crouched, one knee touching the pavement. Her guns were out and primed, pointing up.

The smoke was dissipating. She turned off the micro-fans inside her body's vents.

'Could it be that, even though she has the advantage, Judge is still afraid of me?'

His gas mask off, the Commander held out an M9 for Agent. The grip was closer to her than the muzzle. She hesitated. 'What does he expect me to do with that?'

A crucial detail surfaced in the android's neural cloud. Blaster bolts never ricocheted, but bullets could. Taking the M9, she released the safety and racked the slide.

"Every action you take, I can hear it," Judge declared. "A distance of three hundred meters is no problem for a model like me. Right now, you, Agent, are getting ready to shoot a Griffin peashooter. ...Have your logic subroutines stopped working, or are you just a dumbass? You don't have a chance in hell of penetrating my forcefield with that pistol!"

'All I have to do is get past your barrier...' Agent was finishing up her calculations for the best 'route' for the bullet, taking into account ricochet angles and distances between objects.

'...and you're in the perfect spot for that to happen!' decided Agent when her calculations concluded.

She fired.

The bullet rebounded off a dent in the right-side wall parallel to the road between Agent and the target. The round flew into a crooked lamppost, ricocheting off that. Bent-out-of-shape lampposts on either side of the road served as ricochet points for the bullet.

"What's that noise?" Judge asked. The bullet kept pinging as it got closer to her. The Ringleader snorted. "Whatever it is, it won't change your fate! You won't survive this next atta - arrrgh!" Something like glass shattered.

Agent peeked out from behind the statue. Judge had stumbled backwards, and was clutching her face. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts..." she moaned over and over. Her left optic was covered by her hand. Coolant and other fluids spilled out from under it down the left side of Judge's face.

Agent smirked. 'Right on target.'

Judge screamed. "Agent, you bitch! You'll pay for shooting out my eye! You hear me?! Say something, you fucking traitor! Or do you think you're so above me that I'm not even worth a reply!?"

The horned Doll remained silent. 'There's nothing worth saying. You were sent to kill us, and I plan to dispose of you. That's all there is to this.'

"So that's the way it is, huh?! So be it!" Judge's machine guns blazed away as she broke into a run and dashed towards the monument. Agent ducked down before any rounds could hit her. Eliza's bodyguard didn't let up on her assault as she closed the distance. She held her hands up to guard her face.

The statue got spalled more and more by the incoming blaster bolts. All of a sudden, Judge leaped into the air and somersaulted. Her barrier stayed on the ground, but her machine guns were still firing. She came down feet-first beside the monument.

"Dumont, get back!" Agent and the Commander scrambled away from it.

The instant Judge struck the ground, a lavender pool of electrical energy grew out from the point of impact. This electric field reeked of ozone and hydrochloric acid. The pool brushed against the statue's base and surrounded it.

'No, that's not quite correct,' realised Agent.

"Holy shit! That statue's melting!" Dumont pointed at the base. Its surface was bubbling up and turning into sludge.

'That corrosive pool is burning through the foundation.'

The upper half of the monument toppled over, as there was nothing left to support it.

"You're out in the open!" Judge crowed. She soared and backflipped, having yet to land. "You're finished! Take this!"

The laserfire from her machine guns was about to sweep the Commander and Agent. She aimed her cannons at the descending android and let fly a volley. Judge covered her face with her arms. Two rounds slammed into her forearms. The other two shots hit the sides of the machine guns, throwing their aim off. They missed Dumont and Agent by inches. All four hits sent Judge hurtling towards the church.

She crashed into the tarmac.

'It seems I was wrong. There are no landmines on the path to the church, after all.' Agent squinted. 'There was something off about Judge's attack just now.'

"You noticed it, huh?" Dumont asked, standing to her left. "Judge abandoned her barrier in order to stomp the ground. Given how cautious she was before, doesn't that strike you as odd?"

She replied, "The question remains whether it was an impulsive act… or a technical flaw."

"Flaw or not, there's one target that you can always hit. Two, actually." Dumont gave a V-sign. "I'm not an expert on Sangvis weaponry, but I'm starting to wonder. What happens when you shoot the inside of the barrel?"

Agent tensed up. 'He's talking about shooting her machine guns, through their muzzles…'

"Judge's fixated on protecting her remaining eye. You might not have a chance to pull off the same trick you did earlier. Your priority is disarming her, Agent."

"Commander, do you always ask the impossible of the Griffin leftovers under your command?"

"When the mission calls for it."

Judge shakily got up. 'The distance between us is ninety meters,' Agent determined. 'Her barrier is closer to us than her. Will she recall it?'

"I h-heard you talking... every word you said..." Judge grinned all of a sudden. "Take a good look, Agent." She held up her arms like a bodybuilder showing off their biceps. "Hardly a scratch on me!" The spots on her forearms where Agent had hit her were smoking, but that was it.

"Can't say the same for you." Judge tilted her head. She crisscrossed her forearms to guard her countenance. "I bet it'd take one good hit to blow each of your arms clean off."

The defector only answered in the form of her blazing cannons. Sneering, Judge returned fire. In the midst of this, the purple wall of energy vanished, reappearing in front of her.

Agent stiffened. She'd been surveying the exchange of blasterfire when she noticed something. Judge was intercepting all of her shots, effectively cancelling them out in mid-air.

Agent raced towards her opponent without lessening her assault. She adjusted her aim every passing instant so that she'd still be shooting at the machine-gun muzzles. Dumont was following behind her.

"Surprised, traitor? Your targeting system was the inspiration for mine. It's as if Lady Eliza foresaw this moment. You've got four guns, while I have two. But if we compare the rate of fire of each model, mine win. My machine guns are the newer model. Whose do you think will overheat first? It's either that, or you slip up. You're out of cover. Those antiques are the only things keeping you alive right now."

'Seventy meters... sixty-five... sixty...' Moving forward, the taller Doll peered solely at the bodyguard's armaments. 'Fifty-five meters... fifty...'

She halted, forty-six meters away from Judge. Agent's breasts were bouncing after each shot from her weapons.

"Why'd you stop, traitor? What're you hoping to achieve?"

A click, skittering, and a thud. Despite the overwhelming gunfire, Agent perceived these sounds.

Judge noticed far too late.

She glanced down and started.

A frag grenade rolled to a stop near her. She couldn't kick it away without moving from her spot, nor could she shoot it without letting Agent obliterate one of her machine guns.

"W-What?!" Judge shrieked. "How did I not notice - ?"

The grenade exploded, cratering the road and causing Judge to lose her balance. She extended her arms, likely in a pointless attempt to prevent her fall.

'Her guard's down!' Agent raised the M9 that Dumont had given her and shot a single bullet. A flight path had been computed by the time she'd squeezed the trigger.

Ricocheting off a misshapen lamppost to Judge's right, the bullet penetrated her other eye.

The bodyguard howled, squirming on the ground. Her head was in her hands. Then she lay still quietly. Agent's cannons ceased shooting, but she didn't lower them yet. "It's a good thing we T-Dolls can turn off our pain receptors," said Judge. She didn't sound like she'd been in agony three seconds ago. Her tone was casual. "I can't imagine what it's like for humans. This is one of the reasons why we're superior to them, Agent. We don't have to fight through the pain like they do, when we can just shut off the sensation."

Judge reached into her ruined eye socket, and picked out shards of glass. "You bluffed me, didn't you? You never actually intended to blow up my machine guns from the inside-out. It was just a distraction so that damn human could use my own tactic against me."

"High accuracy doesn't mean shit if you're too busy shooting at another target," Dumont said.

"A lesson that I'll take to heart... after you die!" Judge sprang up and charged at him and Agent. "You've destroyed my eyes, but you haven't taken out my sensors! I know your exact position, Agent!"

'She's still detecting my signal!'

"I just have to get in range and you'll be finished!"

"Just try it. See what happens, Judge." The quartet of laser cannons hummed as they charged up. Their barrel tips glowed crimson.

Judge sprinted towards them, her shield up. When she was five meters away, it dropped. She jumped, dodging Agent's attack. Two streams of scarlet energy zoomed under the bodyguard's boots. Judge somersaulted and dived at Agent heel-first.

The airborne Doll's arms were away from her face. That was her final mistake.

Two shots blasted through the back of Judge's skull.

Her body got launched backwards, and landed in a heap on the road.

"She must've wanted to grab me to ensure I didn't escape," Agent said. "She planned to self-destruct and finish me off at the same time. She thought I'd fired all of my guns, hence her overconfidence."

She approached the Commander. When she stopped within arm's reach, she thumbed the M9's safety on and, on her palm, flipped the pistol around so that its grip was nearer Dumont. He took the handgun and holstered it.

Rotor blades repeatedly swished in the air. Agent turned her head, and watched a Hind, its sides emblazoned with Griffin's emblem, touch down behind where the monument had stood. Other helicopters circled overhead.


	5. Chapter 5

Passing by bombed-out skeletons of buildings, Xavier jogged towards the stationary Hind, Agent at his heels. MG5 and the AR team leaped out of it to meet them.

"Commander," called his adjutant. She wore a relieved smile. "It's good to see you in one piece."

"Can't say the same about her," AR-15 hissed, referring to the Sangvis Doll in their midst. "We just going to bring her the way she is, or are we going to take precautions?"

Xavier shook his head. "We don't have time for that. Agent's coming with us as is. Every moment we remain here gives the enemy echelons more time to catch up and surround us." He walked right up to the helicopter.

"Sir, I think I speak for everyone when I say that none of us want to ride with that Sangvis," M16 said, unease flashing across her features.

"What's stopping that bitch from blowing herself up when we get onboard, or acting as a tracker for her comrades?" added AR-15.

"I'll give you a full explanation once we lift off, but right now I'll just say that she's unable to do either." Pushing past her, Xavier boarded the Hind.

Inside, there were two rows of seats facing each other. He plopped down in the middle of one row. Agent went to sit to his right, beside the currently closed door. MG5 took a seat to his left, while Team Anti-Rain sat opposite them.

MG5 shut the door closest to her. "Take us home, pilot."

"Copy that." The Hind started ascending. Xavier ignored the comms chatter, and leaned fully against the backrest.

"So are we going to get some answers, Commander?" demanded AR-15.

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Why the hell is she with you? And why're you so convinced that she's not a threat?"

Agent sneered, but didn't reply. Xavier crossed his arms. The exoskeleton components covering his arms creaked when he did so. "Agent and her old boss had a bit of a falling out."

"Over what?"

"You should be asking, 'Over who?'" The Commander gave a roguish smile. "And the answer is me."

His mind whirred. 'That's probably not the entire explanation. I do believe that it played a role in Agent's decision to betray Eliza, though.'

This information startled both the 16LAB Dolls and MG5, the latter to a lesser degree.

"What do you mean by that, sir?" she asked.

"Well, Eliza wanted to just straight-up murder me, while Agent... didn't."

"To use you as a hostage or a bargaining chip," guessed the machine-gunner.

"Yeah."

Agent cast a sidelong glance at him. He appreciated that she didn't say that it'd been his idea in the first place. None of the Griffin T-Dolls really needed to know that detail.

"To answer your other question, AR-15: Agent's infected with a virus."

M4A1's eyebrows knitted together. "What's it done to her?"

"It's prevented Agent from using her personal comm, as well as her command module and her electronic warfare module. Connection-wise, she's cut off," Xavier elaborated.

AR-15 frowned. "Sir, how do you know she's telling the truth about the virus?"

"We were attacked by enemy squads the instant they saw us. If Agent's command module was working, she could've stopped that from happening."

"Agent will be providing us with intel on Sangvis Ferri, I take it," MG5 said. "What'll you do with her afterwards, Commander?"

"Haven't had time to think about that." Xavier rubbed his jaw.

'I'm not sure yet what Agent's role will be. I know that her presence will piss off pretty much everyone, and I can't blame 'em for that. But a deal's a deal. I just have to make this work somehow.'

Xavier looked at his adjutant. "Have you got a casualty report for me?"

MG5 handed him a tactical tablet. He switched it on and read through the file on it.

"What about human casualties? I don't see any listed here."

"That's because there are none, sir," MG5 said.

Xavier sagged. "Oh, thank God."

He shot up in his seat. "Wait, did someone call Kalina?" The logistics officer had been off-site when the raid had happened.

"Welrod contacted her as soon as we were out of the jammers' range, Commander," replied the machine-gunner. "She's already at our new base."

* * *

Xavier's first thought when he saw the new base was that it was underwhelming. A two-story complex that took up a fifth of the land that his previous command outpost did.

No separate barracks.

No auxiliary training facility.

The airfield was tiny. There were three marked spots for helicopters to land, and one hanger beside them.

Xavier's Hind didn't land at the airfield. Instead, it descended onto a private helipad on the roof of the command post.

Welrod was waiting at the helipad. Four squads' worth of T-Dolls accompanied her.

'They're here because of Agent.'

He stepped out of the Hind as its rotor blades slowed down, MG5 ahead of him. Agent was behind the Commander. M4 and her sisters were giving the former Ringleader a wide berth.

Welrod strode forward, but not close enough to shake his hand. She saluted. "Welcome to our current base, Commander. Glad to see you here."

A few of the T-Dolls behind Welrod echoed her sentiments.

"Likewise, ladies." Without warning, Xavier disengaged the exoskeleton framing his body. The exo came away with a series of sharp clicks, breaking apart before it could fold in on itself. He became aware of the acute pain in his limbs.

"You wore that thing out, huh, Commander?" Welrod remarked.

"Yeah. But what're you all doing here?"

"We have orders from Helian to bring the Sangvis Ringleader to a holding cell."

Over his shoulder, Xavier glimpsed Agent bristling. He regarded the T-Dolls before him. Vengeance flashed in their eyes. Some of them snarled at the raven-haired maidservant.

"Lemme guess: A cell with an EMP source, where the Doll will be weakened." Xavier sighed. He was annoyed that MG5 or the AR Team hadn't mentioned anything. 'Could be the case that they didn't know about it themselves, though.'

"How did you know...?"

"I didn't." The blonde man stared at the vested hand-gunner. "But it's what I'd use if I wanted to keep an enemy T-Doll prisoner. Here's the thing. Agent is not a prisoner."

This news wasn't going to please any of his subordinates or his superiors. He could see the looks of rage and betrayal among many of the androids present.

"Agent will be sharing critical intel on our foe. If anyone makes an attempt on her life, the punishment will be _severe_." He folded his arms behind his back. "Apart from Welrod, you're all dismissed." His firm tone brooked no arguments.

Nobody moved. The Commander arched an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"...Commander, the order came from Helian. Are you going to disobey her?" Type 95 asked worriedly.

"I am. Because she doesn't have the full picture and an EMP could undo all of my work. You think I came all this way with Agent just so her hard-drives could get corrupted or wiped because of Helian's EMP cell?"

Xavier had no idea whether an EMP could affect a Doll like that or not.

"Any more questions? No? Dismissed."

The T-Dolls dispersed reluctantly.

Once they were out of sight, he turned to the pistolier. "Hey, Welrod. I need you to do a favour for me."

"What is it, sir?"

"I need you to lend some of your parts to Agent."

Welrod stiffened.

"You've already ordered them in, haven't you?" It was a rhetorical question. She'd clearly gotten fixed up.

"Any second we waste," argued Welrod, "is a second Agent could use to delete information from her memory banks."

"She's not going to do that. Because then you'd find out..." He glanced at the android he'd fought alongside with. "...and the deal would be off."

"So, extracting the data will be up to me?"

"With supervision. You can't do that just yet, though. I don't know what effect the virus inside Agent will have on Griffin Dolls and our systems, and I'm not keen on finding out."

"A virus, hm? You always manage to keep things interesting, Commander." Welrod's gaze roamed over the gynoid in a tattered dress. "I'm surprised you haven't said a disparaging remark about this yet, Agent."

Eliza's former servant shrugged. "Your fighting ability is pathetic, but your parts serve their purpose."

"What does that mean? Commander, did you - ?"

"I brought her to your secret office so that she could get repairs. Look, it was a desperate situation, alright, Welrod?"

Welrod squeezed her left bicep in frustration. "It's not much of a secret anymore, is it? At least I deleted everything off my personal computer that I had in there." Planting a hand on her hip, she smirked at Dumont. "And if I'd blown up my office, there's a chance that… that we wouldn't see each other like this."

Xavier grunted. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose."

Welrod passed a box of Marlboros to him. "You look like you could use one, sir."

He pulled one out and put it in his mouth. Welrod lit the cigarette with her Zippo. "Thanks, Welrod." He made sure not to blow the smoke in her face. "So, about Agent…"

"…I'll get her repaired. But you owe me big-time, Commander."

"Yeah. I know." Xavier took a long drag. "MG5, you'll go with them. After Agent's repairs are complete, bring her to an interrogation room if there are any of those here. Give her a laptop."

He turned to the booted shielder. "That's for you to type as much information as possible while we work at getting rid of the virus in your body. We don't know everything it can do, so for the time being, you won't be interfacing with anything or anyone."

"Then how will we know if the intel is solid?" asked Welrod.

"Getting rid of the virus is our top priority. The faster we do that, the faster Griffin has verified, actionable intelligence in its hands. I need to debrief with Helian."

"She and Mr Kryuger both want to speak with you regarding… recent events."

Xavier nodded. "Got it. Well, you have your orders."

"Shouldn't we go with them, Commander?" piped up M4A1.

'I forgot that they were still here…'

"I don't think Welrod is keen on many people knowing where her secret office is."

"I'm not. And don't look so smug, MG5. You got lucky this time. Don't follow us, Anti-Rain. Sneaking around isn't your strong suit."

With that said, Welrod and the machine-gunner led Agent away from the helipad.

The leader of the AR team appeared downcast. "O-Oh… Welrod doesn't really trust us, does she?"

"Don't be upset by it, M4. It took me months to learn where she had her previous hide-out."

She brightened up. "Ah… I remember that. What should I and my team do then, Commander?"

"I don't have any new orders for you at the moment. I'll call you when something comes up." He still had the tablet that MG5 had given him.

"…Alright. It's good to have you back with us, sir."

The AR team left the roof of the base.

Xavier remained where he was.

"Finally. I wondered when they were going to leave," said someone with a cultured, British accent. Someone he'd just spoken to seconds ago.

"Welrod."

She emerged from the shadows. "Hello again, Commander Dumont."

"Your dummy was waiting for my arrival."

"Yes. I've got two of them up and running. The other two are not finished being assembled."

"I see. Can you show me where the command room is?"

"Certainly. But you should first get a fresh uniform. And a change of bandages. And a shower. You weren't planning on attending the meeting in your current state, were you?"

Xavier gave a shrug. "I just got back from a fight. I'm not too worried about how I look. The sooner I debrief, the better."

"Going into a meeting like that will reflect poorly on you. Your bandages must be changed. The last thing you should want is to get infected."

Rolling his eyes, he acquiesced.

"I wanted to ask you something but not when Agent was nearby. Do I have permission to use lethal force if she starts a firefight with anyone?"

"Yeah. Kill her if that happens. But if she's acting in self-defense, then back her up. Non-lethally."

Finished smoking his cigarette, Xavier dropped it and ground it beneath his shoe.

"Understood, Commander. Now, if you would follow me, please…"

* * *

He sat topless while Welrod unwrapped his old bandages. "A shot in the forearm and the chest… you're lucky, Commander," murmured the pistolier as she treated his wounds, adding ointment to them.

He'd insisted on not going to the med-bay. She was treating him in what was supposed to be his office. A room with a carpeted floor containing nothing for a desk, three chairs, and a sofa.

Welrod finished wrapping gauze around his torso. His arm was already re-bandaged. "Good to go, Commander."

Xavier reached for his shirt, draped over the back of the chair behind the desk. "You didn't bug my uniform, did you, Welrod?"

The British Doll heaved a sigh. "I don't do that anymore, sir."

He pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up. 'Sure you don't.' Welrod knew enough about tending to injuries that he was comfortable with letting her take care of him. That didn't mean he always believed what she said, though.

On the way here, he'd gotten several welcomes and salutes, the latter of which annoyed him. 'I know it's a sign of respect, but this isn't the military.'

* * *

Right outside the Command Room, Xavier came face-to-face with a familiar redheaded woman. She held a tablet in one gloved hand. A red bow secured her ponytail. She wore a beige jacket with Griffin's logo on the sleeve over a half-buttoned up shirt. Brown calf-high boots and asymmetrical stockings sheathed her legs. A miniskirt fluttered above her bare, shapely thighs. She rushed over to him. "Commander! Oh thank God you're okay!"

'Thank Agent and Lady Luck instead…'

"Hey, Kalina." He smiled sardonically. "You missed out on a lot last night."

The chief logistics officer puffed her cheeks out, pouting at Xavier. "You're telling me, Commander! There was an invasion, a retreat, and then everyone thought you were… gone. And I was absent for all of that because I was out haggling."

"So that's what you used your leave for, huh?"

"Um, just ignore that last part, Commander. It's not important. At all." She grinned nervously.

"I will. Until the next time you apply for a holiday." Her face fell. Xavier smirked. "I'll talk to you later, Kalina. Right now, Kryuger and Helian want my report."

"Well, see you later, sir." Kalina waved and headed down the hallway.

Xavier entered the Command Room and eyed the cluster of monitors at the far-side wall. Dolls and crimson-uniformed officers were manning the various consoles and desktops throughout the tenebrous hub. They saluted him when he passed by. He nodded to each of them.

Stopping at the monitor array, Xavier clasped his hands behind his back. Three of the gargantuan screens opposite him flickered to life.

"Everybody apart from Welrod, leave."

Staff filed out of the room, leaving the HG Doll and the Commander alone. The doors shut.

"You're online, Commander."

Three people appeared, one per screen. One was a bearded man who had a stern demeanour and a weathered countenance. He wore a black suit with a fur-trimmed coat hanging off his broad shoulders. The next was a woman with what Xavier suspected were implanted cat ears, dressed in a blouse and lab coat. The third person was clad in a buttoned crimson jacket, a monocle covering her right eye.

"Helian. Persica. Sir." Xavier flicked his gaze from monitor to monitor. His tone changed for each greeting. For Helian, it was undisguised loathing. Persica, neutral. He was respectful when addressing the heavyset man.

"Commander Dumont, back from the brink," drawled Helian, folding her arms.

"Don't sound too disappointed, Helian. It's almost as if you wish I was dead."

"Let's cut past whatever this is and get down to brass tacks," said the man on-screen.

"Yes, Mr Kryuger," said the ashen-haired officer. "Dumont, am I to understand that the Ringleader calling herself Agent is not currently being held in an EMP-emitting cell?"

"Yeah."

"What?!" Helian was taken aback. "What on Earth possessed you to let her roam free!?"

"Roam free?" repeated Xavier. He popped a cigarette in between his lips and lit it. "She's under constant supervision by one of your most trusted 'assets'. Furthermore, I'm not about to pointlessly torture my newest informant."

"Informant? What…?" Helian adjusted her monocle.

"I believe the Commander has much to tell us," Kryuger rumbled. "Give your account of events." He cupped his elbows. "Start from the moment you lost contact with Welrod."

"Yes, sir. My position got mortared by Jaguars when Agent had me at gunpoint. The building collapsed and I got buried under rubble. Around five hours later, I woke up but she managed to subdue me."

Xavier hesitated.

"What did you tell her, Dumont?" pressed Helian. "What made Agent spare your life?"

"I told her that HQ would swap me for M4A1."

Kryuger bowed his head in contemplation. Helian glared daggers at the Commander. Persica hissed.

"…A bold statement," said the PMC co-founder. "We would've been in a difficult situation. …I think that if it were to come down to it, we would've gone ahead with the swap."

"What?" The scientist was in disbelief. "I can't believe you told the Sangvis Ringleader that, Dumont. I – I thought I could trust you. What would M4 and her sisters think if they heard what you said?"

A smirk was plastered on Xavier's face. "What's with the pissed off looks? Are you telling that you couldn't construct a dummy for M4 for her to control? One that could be used for a swap?"

"Do you really think a dummy would fool SF?"

"Yeah. They don't have a great track record at telling apart mainframes and dummies. I don't know why you didn't think of this, 'Doctor'. Or do you mean to tell me that 16LAB's 'Elite T-Dolls' can't even control dummies?"

"Of course they can. I'm the one who came up with the Dummy Network. Naturally I'd outfit my own creations with the same hardware and protocols for it."

"Uh-huh. Can I get back to giving my report?"

Raising his head, Kryuger replied, "Proceed."

"Alright. After I convinced Agent I was worth keeping alive, we got ambushed by a group of SF Dolls. They were sent to kill her."

"Trouble among the ranks, I take it?"

"Something like that. I don't yet know all the details related to that, though. So, Agent and I fought our way through them. I should mention that at this point, Agent's SF-made weapons were kaput. I lent her some of Griffin's."

"And she used them?" clarified Helian.

"Yeah."

Persica frowned, a steaming mug in her hands. She took a sip. "Considering the way M4 described her, I'd have thought she snapped them in half, out of disgust."

"Shows that she's willing to adapt when the situation demands it." Xavier pinched his cigarette between two fingers as he blew out smoke. "Though I can't help but wonder whether that trait was programmed into her or she developed it on her own. Anyway, we went dummy-hunting to recover her regular weaponry and a copy of her combat module."

"Did you succeed?"

"We did. It turned out two other Ringleaders were hunting Agent. Dreamer and Alchemist. A pleasant pair of ladies," he drawled. "Once she finished getting her replacement CM installed, I got cornered by Dreamer. Agent came to my rescue, and the Mastermind confronted us." Mentioning the EMP bullets at this point was unnecessary. His superiors being unaware of that detail wouldn't hurt them.

"The Mastermind? As in, the one who got control of Sangvis Ferri three years ago?" Helian asked. Sweat was rolling down her cheek.

Xavier ashed his cigarette into a tray beside him. "The one and only. Name's 'Eliza.' Nasty piece of work. She told Agent to prove her loyalty by killing me."

"What? Why?"

"Eliza decided that I wasn't worth anything. That she'd get M4A1 one way or another. So she ordered Agent to execute me. But Agent disobeyed the order."

Kryuger furrowed his brow. "Do you know why?"

"I think it had something to do with the fact that she spent so long trying to keep me alive, only for her boss to say that it was pointless. Which pissed Agent off. After she killed Dreamer and Alchemist, I figured that since she'd effectively cut ties with SF, I could recruit her to our cause."

"And she agreed?"

"She did. One thing I should've mentioned sooner. Agent has a virus."

The head of the PMC exhaled. "You really should've, Commander Dumont. Is she a danger to any of our T-Dolls?"

"No. But this virus disconnected her from OGAS, the SF equivalent of the Zener network, and disabled her command module and dummy control core."

Helian cleared her throat. "How did you two escape from the base?"

"We took the metro train and headed south-east."

"South-east? Not north-west?"

Xavier shook his head and took a drag of his Marlboro. "Agent and I learned that the earlier trains had gotten ambushed on the tracks, and I figured that they were likely damaged. Heading in the opposite direction made more sense to me. We left by train and arrived at an abandoned radar station. The equipment there was useless, but there was a working car there. We hot-wired it and then drove. Then I contacted this Command Outpost."

"You encountered resistance?" probed Kryuger.

"Like you wouldn't believe it. Eliza was throwing everything she had at us in order to kill Agent. Somehow… we survived all that, and made it to the extraction point."

"Where are you keeping this 'Agent' now?"

Xavier expectantly turned to Welrod behind him. She answered, "She's getting repaired in my personal maintenance pod."

"How generous of you, Commander. Getting an enemy fixed up as soon as you bring her to the base," remarked Helian acidly.

"A gesture of good faith."

"The virus you described is problematic. I take it you're not yet proceeding with the data extraction?"

"No. We'll start that when the virus is taken care of."

Helian crossed her arms under her breasts. "This Ringleader's presence undeniably gives us a unique opportunity."

Persica smirked. "We can use her to study their systems and weapons. I'll be able to even create something new for Griffin to use in your operations."

Xavier puffed out smoke. "I disagree. Agent will be more useful on the battlefield than being poked at (by some reclusive cat lady)."

"Whatever deal you made with her is irrelevant, Dumont." Helian tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

He laughed scornfully. "Predictable as ever, Helian. I expected you wouldn't give a rat's ass about that." He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray next to him. "Even if you think that the deal we made is unimportant, I'll tell you why Agent is worth more as a T-Doll than as a test subject."

'Even if Agent hadn't made it one of the terms of our agreement, I still would've argued for her to have a combat role.'

"I'll admit, part of it is down to the equipment and weapons that she's got. But she wielded an MP5, a G36C and a Mossberg superbly _without_ a Weapons Imprint. What does that tell you about her skill? She's adaptable, willing to take risks to win a battle. What I saw out there wasn't just someone with powerful tools. Agent clearly has experience. Having a strong shield and laser cannons is one thing, but knowing how to use them effectively is another. Picture this: hundreds of enemies being sent after her, and she still defeats them all. That's what happened out there."

Xavier adjusted his black tie. The bags under his eyes were beginning to itch. He refrained from scratching them. "I'm not exaggerating. Once the virus is dealt, you'll see for yourselves what she's capable of. In this conflict and in future ones, Griffin needs 'assets' like Agent. Not as a lab rat, but on the frontlines."

"Are you aware of Agent's reputation, Dumont? She's personally responsible for the deaths of four Commanders. That's not including the men and women under their commands, as well the civilians that had lived in territory which is now occupied by Sangvis Ferri," snarled Helian.

'I noticed how you didn't mention the T-Dolls that those Commanders were in charge of…'

"I'm aware." Welrod was an excellent source of information. "I still stand by my words."

'During last night's assault, Agent only killed people that can be brought back. If it was otherwise, I'd be all for dismantling her and not giving a damn.'

Welrod walked over to whisper in his ear. "Commander, Agent's finished her repairs. I'm moving her to an interrogation room as per your orders."

Xavier simply nodded. He wanted to ask if Agent had been any trouble, but going by Welrod's calm tone, the situation was manageable. He was relieved that Agent was cooperating, and that no fights had arisen.

Welrod stepped back.

Helian frowned. "What was that?"

"Just a status update," Dumont responded.

"…I see how it is. Just so you know, your rapid evacuation of the base assigned to you is… dubious."

The Commander choked on air. "How? How is it dubio - ?" He gaped at Helian. "You think I'm in league with them? With Sangvis?"

"Or just with Agent herself."

"Sangvis don't use human proxies."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Not this time, Helian."

"Against my advice, you were entrusted with a stronghold in S09, from which to carry out your operations. And last night, you gave it up to the enemy."

His hands were trembling. 'The nerve of this woman…!'

"The odds were against us," stressed Xavier. "We were outgunned, outmanned a thousand to one. And you wanted me to stay – me and my subordinates – to get slaughtered? What, so you could feel justified in your feelings towards me? I ordered everyone under my command to retreat so that there wouldn't be a mass grave left." He took a deep breath and forced the shaking to subside. "I wasn't about to sacrifice anyone pointlessly. Without reinforcements, which we couldn't call for because of the jammers, we would've been massacred." Xavier straightened. "Eliza _hates_ humans. Sangvis as a whole hates humans. The chances of me allying with them are zero."

"Commander Dumont is many things…" weighed in Kryuger. "…But a traitor isn't one of them."

The blonde man sagged. At least one of his bosses was on his side.

The co-founder of G&K added, "Persica, Helian, let me speak with Dumont alone."

The scientist and the accuser promptly disconnected.

Xavier found himself shoving another cig into his mouth. He lit it with shaky hands. 'Talking to that woman always stresses me out…'

"Commander, you have to understand where Helian is coming from. A lot of the people that she's recruited personally have been cut down by Sangvis." Kryuger scratched at his beard. "Her accusation was without basis, however. I'll speak to her about that later."

The Commander acknowledged this with a nod.

"You won't give up arguing for Agent's role, will you? I can see the merits of your argument, but I can also see Persica helping Griffin in many ways by studying the Ringleader."

"Agent won't win us battles from the inside of a lab. She can act as an advisor, or lead squads herself. I can picture her doing either with amazing efficiency."

"There's something you might not be considering, Commander. Griffin is forbidden from using World War III-era or post-WWIII weapons. Sangvis Ferri firearms fall into both categories. Even if we let Agent fight, she wouldn't be able to use her guns."

"_Officially_, we're not allowed." Xavier smirked, rolling his cigarette between his lips. "Unofficially? The world's our oyster, sir. You can't expect me to believe that every single Commander always obeys that condition."

Kryuger's silence was a giveaway.

"Heh. Tell you what, sir. If the military comes knocking around and starts asking questions, I'll take the fall for this. Say that it was all my idea."

"They wouldn't treat you gently," warned Kryuger, "especially since you're a foreigner."

"I'm aware of that, sir."

"You're determined to keep your end of the bargain, aren't you? …Very well. I've made my decision."

Persica and Helian reappeared on-screen.

* * *

MG5 patrolled the corridor, machine gun in hand. She was one of the T-Dolls guarding Agent while the latter typed up her reports on her former comrades. Commander Dumont's adjutant had volunteered to guard their 'guest', even though Welrod hadn't included initially included her in the security detail. MG5 had approved of the T-Dolls that the pistolier had handpicked for this assignment.

They were the ones least likely to attempt assassinating Agent. MG5 herself had mixed feelings about the Sangvis maid. On the one hand, she'd led a raid that resulted in the deaths of many of MG5's comrades. On the other hand, the adjutant was certain that without Agent, the Commander would most likely have been killed.

She stopped at the end of the corridor, confusion dominating her neural cloud. M200 was supposed to be here. Was the sniper shirking guard duty?

No. That couldn't be the case. The violet-eyed Rifle Doll was one of the most dutiful people MG5 had ever met. 'Then where is she...?'

"Up here," whispered someone. The machine-gunner craned her neck, feeling the cables there beneath her synth-skin ache with the motion. Lying flat on her belly, Intervention peered down through a vent entrance. The rifle stock was pressed up against her shoulder. She kept her finger on the trigger guard.

"What are you doing up there, M200?" MG5 asked softly.

"Guarding. It's silly for a sniper to stand out in the open."

"...I see. Carry on, then." MG5 went back the way she came.

All of a sudden, Welrod contacted her through a private channel. "We have a situation. Skorpion, Thompson's squad, and a few others have showed up."

"Copy that. On my way." Ending the call, MG5 quickened her pace. She rushed around the corner to find Welrod, Mk23, Grizzly, Type 95, AUG and P90 confronting the intruders. Welrod was the only one to not have her gun out.

"You aren't authorised to be here. Turn around and go," she commanded.

"Who the hell are you to be giving us orders? We're not going anywhere until we see her. Just give us a minute and we'll be out of your hair," Ingram promised darkly.

"You won't have even a second. Must I repeat myself?"

Ingram cocked her SMG and levelled it at Welrod's forehead. "You won't have to."

Behind MAC-10, her squadmates RFB, MDR, and M1911 raised their weapons. AUG, Mk23, and Grizzly responded in kind. P90 and Type 95 glanced between the two groups, unsure of what to do.

"You're all out of line," thundered MG5, storming forward. She batted aside the scarred Doll's submachine gun. Ingram didn't resist. "We're recovering from an attack and this is how you behave yourselves? By drawing your guns on your comrades? Disgraceful."

Ingram grimaced. "Sorry, Miss MG5. But I can barely control myself knowing that the bitch who murdered Thompson is right at my fingertips."

"The Commander wants her alive. His orders matter more than your desire for revenge."

"Oh, yeah? How about he tells me that himself?"

"How about I do what, exactly?"

The intruders whirled around. MG5 relaxed slightly, lowering her shoulders. She hadn't noticed how stiff her endo-skeleton was from the tension.

Commander Dumont approached them. "What do you want me to tell you, Ingram?"

* * *

'Looks like I got here just in time...' Right before a firefight could've broken out. Immediately after the debriefing had ended, Welrod had told him that some T-Dolls were in a standoff with Agent's guards. He'd raced to the scene.

Xavier loosened his tie. "I asked you a question, Ingram."

The submachine gunner stammered, losing her composure.

"…Commander, is it true? Is Agent not going to be executed or dismantled?" M1911 inquired.

"That's right. I didn't bring her here for either of those things."

"Why? We should have justice. Justice for Thompson, and everyone else that we've lost."

Xavier considered his next words carefully. "We will have justice. In fact, Agent is the key to that goal. Her intel on Sangvis Ferri will help us make that happen."

"But she's not going to be punished, is she?" Skorpion demanded, shouldering past M1911. "You're letting her off the hook just because she's spilling the beans on those damn Sangvis."

The Commander regarded the twin-tailed SMG Doll. She and Ingram had lost teammates to Agent before his echelons had rescued them. He smirked fleetingly. "Her punishment will come soon, Skorpion. It's an interesting one, given that it doesn't involve bodily harm or hacking."

"O-Oh… Then it better be good, Commander!" That seemed to be enough to mollify her for the moment.

Xavier's gaze swept across his audience. "You should all know that we're working to restore the T-Dolls that got killed in the raid." He understood why this would be of little comfort to most of his subordinates. If a Tactical Doll was destroyed before they could back up their memories, then she would wake up in her new body with only the last backup. This could potentially result in the loss of several months' worth of memories.

Friendships, rivalries, missions – all wiped away.

"Commander, it won't be the same… It won't be the same Thompson," Ingram muttered.

"I can't say this for everyone that got killed, but Thompson finished backing up her memories right before last night's training session. She told me that herself over the comm."

Ingram's head shot up. "Y-You mean that, Commander?" She stumbled towards him, seizing the lapels of his coat. Everyone around them tensed up. Welrod reached out with one arm, worry all over her face. He wasn't afraid. The limiter imposed on IOP-made Dolls stopped them from harming humans.

Xavier gently gripped her smaller hands. "Yeah, I do. Thompson wouldn't lie to me about that. As her squadmate, you know she's candid both on and off duty." Thompson's memory backups had been a daily habit. She'd kept that from her team.

"S-She never said anything…" whispered MDR.

"She wanted you four to focus on your training and not worry about her."

"Dammit, that sounds just like her…" Ingram let go of the Commander. Wearing an embarrassed expression, she backed away to give him space.

"The other T-Dolls coming back will need your support. You'll have to fill the gaps in their memories and help them come to terms with what happened. It'll be up to all of you." Xavier smoothed out his coat lapels. "Go and spread the word."

"Yes, Commander!"

Skorpion, Ingram, and the other trespassers turned to leave.

"Before you go," added Xavier, his hands clasped together behind his back, "Remember that my previous orders regarding Agent still stand. I'll let this… confrontation slide, but future acts of insubordination _will_ result in disciplinary action."

"You're lucky the Commander is so forgiving," spat MG5, coming to stand beside the blonde officer.

"Easy, MG5. You may leave."

Ingram, MDR, RFB, Skorpion and the rest walked away. The security detail remained with Xavier.

"Put their names on a list, Welrod." He needed to know who to watch out for.

"Already did that, sir. I've sent it to you."

He unlocked his tablet and found the file in his inbox. "Thanks. I need to have a word with Agent privately." He faced Welrod, his mien serious. "That means no eavesdropping."

She frowned. "…Yessir."

Xavier made his way towards the door to Agent's temporary room. Without knocking, he entered and shut it behind him.

Cream-coloured walls confined them. Sitting at an alloyed table, Agent was typing rapidly on a laptop. She'd been completely repaired. Her dress was sewed up, epidermal plating on her forearms replaced. Her amber optics flicked over to him and she ceased typing, giving him her full, undivided attention.

"I heard a commotion outside. Was there trash that needed to be cleaned up, Commander?" she asked, pushing down the laptop screen slightly. Agent carded a gloved hand through her bangs.

"Nothing for you to worry about. I took care of it." He sat down opposite her. "Did you check the room for bugs?"

"Who do you take me for? Naturally I finecombed it for listening devices and the like." Agent pulled something out of her dress pocket. She opened her fist above the table. Several tiny speaker-like objects, crushed and sparking, spilled on to the table. "As if I'd let some piece of filth spy on me." She scooped up the metallic pieces and dumped them in the bin in one corner of the room.

Returning to her seat, Agent saw Xavier's shoulders relax. 'Good. That means Welrod can't listen in.'

"I spoke with my bosses." He rubbed at his eyes. "You get to stay under my command. Arrangements are being made to delete the "Anti-Parapluie" in your systems." Xavier interlocked his fingers. "But some conditions have been set out, and they're non-negotiable."

Agent observed his weary countenance. "What are they?"

"Your guns are going to be confiscated. Not my idea, believe me. Your shield gets to stay, though." Agent being unarmed would encourage T-Dolls seeking revenge to take shots at her. Her cannons would've been a deterrent of sorts. Helian had been gleeful when she heard Kryuger state that term. There was nothing he could do about it. Not without disobeying Kryuger's orders, anyway.

"And what will happen to my weapons?"

"They'll be taken away for safekeeping. That's all," he promised. "You're not supposed to get them back until HQ is comfortable with you having 'em."

Agent pursed her lips. "I expected this. Your higher-ups have no reason to trust me."

"There's more. You're to be outfitted with a tracking device and an explosive chip." Xavier rubbed his neck. "There are two detonators for it. One's been given to me, and the other to Kalina." The chief logistics officer was someone that Helian and Kryuger both trusted. Xavier had been the one to suggest her.

"I suspect that you weren't supposed to share that detail with me."

A shrug. "You would've found out sooner or later. I'm here to bring you down to the repair bay for implanting the tracker and the det-chip." Xavier stood up. "…Turn over your guns, Agent."

She rose from her chair. Lifting up her skirt, she revealed a mechanical harness, her cannons attached to it, hugging her midsection above her black garter belt. Xavier couldn't help but blush. With a straight face, Agent unclipped the harness. She laid it carefully beside the laptop. Releasing her skirt, she let it cover up her long legs again.

"After one month, HQ will review your case. They're calling this your 'probation period.'"

Agent brought her hands together at her waist.

"Hey, Agent. Did you… make any edits to the memory of our agreement? Of the moment when we agreed on the terms?"

She tilted her head. "No, Commander Dumont. I'm not discounting the possibility that someone would notice something in the edited version. Furthermore, if I did make even one edit, that would cast doubt on all my memories."

The man's blush subsided. His mouth felt dry. "Yeah… yeah, that makes sense."

'It'll be up to me, then, to make sure that HQ doesn't get to see the full version of our negotiation.'

Xavier opened the door and called for Welrod. She strode in, her mask of calm in place. 'When her calmness is picture-perfect, it's obvious she's pissed off.'

"Welrod, get these guns down to the armoury and lock them away. I also want you to make a copy of the file that Agent's working on and send it to me." The Commander jabbed a finger at Welrod. "Don't tamper with those guns. Even 'accidentally.' Is that clear, Welrod?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good. I'll bring Agent to the repair bay."

* * *

The person tasked with Agent's operation was the head technician. His greying hair was tied in a ponytail, his beard unkempt. Wearing an unbuttoned oil-stained labcoat, white shirt, navy pants, and sneakers, he handed a clipboard to one of the other technicians.

Unfazed by the Sangvis Doll's presence, he went over to Xavier. "Commander Dumont. Good to have you back. Let's make this procedure quick. I have other T-Dolls to see to."

"I can see that, Harkov." Xavier was appalled at the state of the repair bay. Only two of the eight maintenance pods were functioning. The queue of damaged T-Dolls spanned the length of a soccer field. Those androids whose parts hadn't arrived, but weren't in any condition to move, like poor Contender, had been placed on slabs situated beside the repair pods.

Harkov glanced at Agent. "You'll behave yourself, yes? I get enough trouble from IOP Dolls as it is."

She sniffed haughtily. "Don't compare me to those leftovers. Just keep your hands to yourself and complete the task given to you."

"I'm a professional, Miss Agent," Harkov said coolly. "I don't tolerate inappropriate conduct."

He led her and Xavier to a side-room next to the repair bay.

"Welrod told you what to do?" Xavier checked.

"She has. I will be implanting a tracker and a det-chip inside Agent's body."

At the side room's doorstep, Xavier turned to MG5. "Remain on guard here. Also, make sure that nobody from the security detail gets in the way of the technicians."

MG5 planted a hand on her hip. "Understood, sir."

He followed after Harkov and Agent. The door locked behind him.

"Where exactly will the chip and tracker be implanted in my mainframe?"

Harkov shared a look with Xavier. Something in the Commander's expression made him answer. "…Your chest cavity."

The operating table had a curtain that could be pulled around it. Agent didn't bother with it. She started undoing the ginormous bow at the back of her dress.

"What're you doing?" asked Xavier.

"Getting undressed. I didn't go to the trouble of sewing this dress up, only to get it ruined again."

Pulling the dress down, Agent stepped out of the puddle of fabric. She unbuttoned her shirt deftly and shrugged it off. Xavier couldn't look away. He stared at every part of Agent.

The backs of her garter-strapped, stocking-clad thighs.

The considerable curvature of her rear, covered by dark panties.

Her naked back, smooth and pale.

The straps of her black bra ever so slightly digging into the artificial skin.

Xavier crimsoned heavily.

"Enjoying the view, Commander?" Agent's contralto jolted him from his reverie. Her tone was neutral. When she reached to undo her bra, he spun around.

"You don't feel an ounce of shame, do you?" he mumbled.

"I wasn't programmed to."

"This banter is very interesting, but I can get on with my job? I believe you wanted this procedure to be done as quickly as possible, Miss Agent." Harkov guided a lamp over the operating table, and trolleyed over a tray of tools, including the tracking device and the explosive implant. The latter was the size of a thumb, while the tracker was smaller than a pinky finger.

"A timely reminder, Doctor." Agent lay down on the operating table. The Commander heard something open with a click and a hiss. He sat down on a chair near the table. Taking out his tactical tablet, he checked his inbox.

Welrod had emailed him the file that Agent had typed up.

"Have you deactivated your pain receptors?" Harkov asked Agent.

"No, and I don't plan on doing so."

"Then I suppose you going into stasis is out of the question?"

"You suppose correctly."

Xavier looked up. "There a problem?" Harkov was leaning over Agent, staring inside her opened torso. He stood between the Commander and the Sangvis Doll.

The technician gave him a look. "Agent is not meant to know where I'll be placing the implantations, is she?"

"Doesn't make a difference. It's her body. She'd figure out eventually where they are. This way, she can avoid accidentally dislodging one of 'em."

'…And giving Helian the excuse to blow her up.'

"Alright. This would make it the first time I'd be operating like this on a conscious T-Doll, then." Xavier was staying nearby to oversee the situation. If by any chance Harkov discovered Agent's self-destruct feature, Xavier could stop him from running to Welrod or someone else and talk him down.

The Commander was absorbed in the file. Some of the information would be rendered invalid, if it hadn't already been. That depended on how fast Eliza and her underlings adapted to the loss of Agent. But some things couldn't be changed so simply. The Ringleader profiles that Agent had provided were likely still accurate.

The defenses around the central Sangvis Ferri facility in the mountains would definitely be reinforced. The list of tactics and strategies employed by the Sangvis command units would only grow. 'If they adapt, that is. Unfortunately, the likelihood that they will is high. They've been operating independently without human oversight for three years.'

Key locations like command centers, radar stations, heliports, and safehouses would be the same. Their defenses would also be strengthened. 'Agent said that the assault on my base expended a significant portion of SF manpower. If Griffin presses the advantage now, we can drive their forces back towards the main facility.'

Xavier scrolled further down. 'This Parapluie that Agent describes… it's a menace.' According to her, the Parapluie virus was merely the latest weapon to be implemented against Griffin. If an unaware T-Doll interfaced with a Sangvis-controlled terminal or similar, the virus would infect her and establish a connection to the OGAS network, of which Eliza was the 'administrator.' Eliza would then be able to directly control the T-Doll's body and her various modules.

It wasn't brainwashing, per se. The Doll controlled by Eliza would still be able to have her own thoughts. She just wouldn't be able to act on them. 'Like a self-aware puppet. Agent said that's how the Parapluie'd Doll would feel. I wonder…'

The code for Parapluie had to be modified by now. If Persica or whoever created an anti-virus, it would be ineffective against the updated Parapluie. Agent's "anti-Parapluie" was a direct counterpart. It'd disconnected her from OGAS.

'Griffin could use this anti-Parapluie for various things… Like recruiting other Ringleaders who want to defect, if there's anyone else…'

"…There. All done." Harkov took a step back. He placed away his tools.

Agent's torso closed up and she rose from the operating table. While putting on her bra, she locked gazes with Xavier. Her frown was severer than usual. 'Ah… so Harkov's found her self-destruct charge. Even though I was watching him, there was no change in his body language. Maybe Agent saw something in his expression change.'

The technician held out a plastic-coated cylinder for Xavier. As big as his palm, its top was capped. This was the detonator. Xavier gingerly pocketed it.

Harkov's features were pinched. Agent got dressed. When she was done, Xavier unlocked the door and popped his head out. "Escort Agent to the Command Room. Guard her there, and give her back the laptop so that she can continue her work. MG5, wait for me here."

"Yes, sir." MG5 leaned against the wall. The security detail escorted the Sangvis maid from the repair bay. Xavier returned to the side-room, where Harkov was putting away equipment. The Commander locked the door.

The disgruntled technician faced him.

"Commander, did I see something I wasn't supposed to?" asked Harkov blandly.

'Why does he have to make it sound like I'm going to kill him? I'm not gonna do that.'

"Did you check this place for bugs, Harkov?"

"First thing I did before I and my team got the equipment set up. I take it you don't want this secret reaching Helian's ears?"

"Yeah." Xavier assumed a relaxed stance. "I don't need her knowing about that."

"Or Welrod Mk II, for that matter?" Harkov stroked his beard.

"Better that way."

"…I see. You wish for my silence."

"Yeah. Don't discuss what you found with anyone."

"I won't, Commander."

Xavier was startled by the instantaneous reply.

"Why so shocked, Commander? Did you think I'd take advantage of the situation? Use it for blackmail, perhaps?"

"It's what a lot of other people would do."

"Hmm. …Agent spared me and two of my colleagues. I think this is how I'll repay the favour. You don't have to worry about me blabbing." The ponytailed man traced the stitches-shaped scar cutting through his right eyebrow.

'I hope so, Harkov. I sure hope so.'

The officer and the technician entered the repair bay. Harkov returned to the maintenance pod he'd been overseeing. MG5 pushed herself off the wall, and sidled up to him.

Xavier pulled a face. "Situation here isn't exactly optimal."

"I applied for the other repair stations to be activated the instant I saw the repair bay, Commander," she told him. "They're like the ones at our old base. They need a key to be unlocked. Welrod's hacking isn't of much use in this instance."

"And like last time, Helian's gonna take her sweet damn time getting us someone to activate those repair stations." Xavier touched the box of Marlboros in his coat pocket. "Looks like I'll have to pay out of my own pocket to get those things running."

"Unfortunately, yes, sir."

* * *

Xavier set foot into the Command Room, in the center of which there were four tables joined together. Agent was seated at one, her gloved fingers working the keyboard of her laptop. Welrod was the only person who was fine with standing close to the maid. Everyone else stayed on the opposite side of the room.

"You were gone a while," commented Welrod.

"I had some things to take care of," Xavier replied.

She hummed.

He went over to her and Agent. The ex-Ringleader peeked at him without ceasing to type. "Commander."

"Agent." Xavier placed his tactical tablet on the table. "Have you been sending HQ the intel, Welrod?"

"I forwarded Helian an update two minutes ago."

"Has she said anything about acting on the information?"

Welrod grasped her elbows. "Commander, Helian said she won't do anything until we have Agent's memories in our possession."

'Goddamn bureaucrat…' Xavier huffed in frustration. "Agent doesn't have any reason to lie." Welrod scowled. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Agent adopting an air of indifference as she pretended to not listen in. "Or to omit information. Other Commanders can send their echelons to reclaim territory from Sangvis. This is the time for Griffin to be making the big push. Attack SF while they're at their weakest."

"Helian and I disagree on many things, sir. But in this case, I'll side with her. It pays to be cautious and prudent. Not all of us are willing to trust a former Sangvis as quickly as you."

Xavier clenched his jaw. "Then I'll organise a strike force – "

"With what echelons?" Welrod challenged. "We need some to guard our new base, and others to go on logistics missions. Over a third of our T-Dolls need to be repaired. And that's not accounting for the ones we lost."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "…I see your point, Welrod," said Xavier brusquely.

"Look, sir, I… ah…" Grimacing, Welrod loosened the knot of her tie. "Commander, what should I do with the AR Team? They're getting restless."

"Send 'em on a supply run. But not too far."

"Very well, sir. I'll have them escort a transport filled with T-Doll parts and ammo."

"Do it."

Welrod typed in the order on her tactical tablet, and sent it off to M4A1.

"I do have some good news, Commander. Miss Persica will be aiding us in our virus-related task."

A cat-eared woman in a labcoat appeared on one of the monitors to his left. Persica grinned, holding a coffee mug in one hand.

"So what do we have to do?" asked Xavier.

The scientist answered, "Hook Agent up to Welrod. She'll get me the script for the virus, which she and I will use to create an antivirus program."

"Before we go ahead with that, I'd like to reaffirm what we know about this 'anti-Parapluie'." The holo-projector by the monitors beamed an image of a text file.

"Agent, wrap up what you're doing and send it to Welrod," Xavier instructed. "Welrod, forward the newest updated version of her file to Helian."

Both of the T-Dolls complied with the orders. Xavier faced the rest of the command staff. "You're all dismissed. We're going to need privacy for this procedure. Tell everyone not to disturb us, unless it's an absolute emergency." The staff emptied the hub, closing the doors behind them.

Xavier regarded Agent curiously, who brushed lint off of her skirt. "Agent, the floor is yours."

"The virus has been in my systems for over fourteen hours. It's deactivated my command and electronic warfare modules. Otherwise I'd be working on an antivirus myself. How and when the virus got into my systems remains a mystery."

"Yours scans showed nothing?"

"Nothing, Commander. Anti-Parapluie could've been activated after it was transferred to my neural cloud. The most troubling part is this: the virus's code changes every three hours. Not to the point that it's completely unrecognisable, but enough to make me certain that an antivirus would only work on the 'version' of the anti-Parapluie that it was designed in response to."

Xavier breathed out slowly and deliberately. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, then. How much time left till the next variant of the virus becomes active?"

"Five minutes, Commander."

Xavier turned to Persica's screen. "Making an antivirus in less than three hours – can it be done?"

The creator of the AR team smirked. "In this day and age, with the help of a T-Doll – definitely."

The Commander's gaze fell on Welrod. He took a step towards her. "You're the one taking a real risk. We don't know what the virus could do to you. Are you ready for this, Welrod?"

The blonde android gave a nod. "Ready to do my part, Commander Dumont. And, to be quite frank, I'm the only choice for this task. Nobody else has got a working electronic warfare module."

Xavier's countenance became sombre. "Let's get you two linked up."

Welrod grabbed two cables that were lying below Persica's monitor. "I'll connect myself to Griffin's systems, and then to Agent. That way, I'll be able to transmit the virus's code to Persica in real time."

"Huh. So you'll be acting as a buffer of sorts."

"That's one way of looking at it, Commander. If the Anti-Parapluie program starts to infect me, then disconnecting me from the terminal will prevent the same from happening to our systems."

"Got it."

Welrod wired herself to Agent, and then to the control terminal using the pair of cables. They sat next to each other opposite Persica's screen.

"I better not get any malware from you, trash," muttered Agent.

Welrod smirked. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I know how to manage my firewalls, unlike some."

Agent's scowl deepened.

Xavier interrupted, "Enough, you two. Persica and I will monitor your progress through the terminal. You may begin, Welrod."

The command sobered Welrod. "Understood, sir." Agent's optics and hers dimmed. Their upright postures did not change.


	6. Chapter 6

The thought of interfacing with a trash Doll was repulsive to Agent. Given the present circumstances, however, there was no room for argument. She couldn't afford to be picky when it was her digital consciousness' stability at stake.

Her 'self', the coded essence that made Agent behave and think the way she did, retreated from the material world. She switched off her vision.

When she reawakened, it was in cyberspace. In the digital depths of her neural cloud. She looked down at her current form: a holographic avatar that matched her real life appearance; skirt, boots, guns and all.

Her surroundings consisted of a circuit board-like floor that spanned for miles in all directions, and countless floating, static polygons, either by themselves or stacked to form towers. What passed for the sky here was an opaque navy glow.

Some T-Dolls enjoyed immersing themselves in cyberspace or partaking in electronic warfare. Agent didn't. She favoured the real world.

She willed a flickering menu to pop up at her fingertips. Another pop-up shortly followed. This one displayed the result of the systems diagnostic scan she'd initiated just prior to getting hooked up to her 'donator' of mechanical parts.

The scan indicated that her firewalls, and her cyber-security in general, were unaffected by the virus. A blue-tinted notification informed Agent that the neural cloud connection had been established.

The Tactical Doll known as Welrod Mk II needed to find Agent's avatar. Then she'd be able to broadcast the virus code to the cat-eared human.

A rectangular window opened up before Agent. It was for controlling the firewall, which she promptly deactivated.

This way, the HG Doll would reach her quicker.

Even with her scenario simulator, Agent couldn't have predicted what'd happen next.

The circuit board floor was suddenly bathed in red light, and she heard a klaxon wail.

A new notification appeared.

[Intruder detected. Initiating defenses.]

'What? That wasn't supposed to happen. I deactivated the firewall for this exact reason.' Agent frantically brought up the menu for the system analysis program. She had to find out what caused her cyber-security to activate.

She realised it was because of the virus. If she was a human, her blood would have chilled. 'This... parasite managed to deceive my scanners.' Agent read the results of the system analysis. The anti-Parapluie had been linked to her firewalls from the start. The scan hadn't picked up on that until now. 'Yes, thank you for telling me that my firewalls are infected after I've already learned that for myself.' She dismissed the window containing the results.

The firewall shutdown apparently ramped up the strength and speed of her electronic defenses.

A new message, flashing vermillion, popped up. [Neural cloud self-destruct initiated.]

Agent stared. For a single, horrible instant she felt defeated. Code that mimicked terror and exhaustion was being streamed into her digital consciousness.

Stubbornness and spite superseded those emotions. 'I will not die like this. Not because of Dreamer's and Alchemist's doing.' She tried to avert the self-destruct. Bringing up the menu for it, Agent's holo-avatar blanched. One choice on the list was unselectable.

'Shit. The option to cancel the self-destruct is blocked out.' Agent opted for its delay. She picked the longest time available, and confirmed her choice.

A countdown showed itself high above her avatar. Ginormous white digits and colons stood out starkly against the redness of the sky.

One hour and fifteen minutes.

That was how long she had before her neural cloud would get disintegrated.

Before she'd be killed.

Unfortunately, Dreamer and Alchemist couldn't have settled for just that.

Agent perceived the shuffling of feet. Turning around, she froze. Dozens of bipedal entities were shambling towards her. Their bodies were composed of swirling black triangles. None of them had faces. Only a pair of shining scarlet lenses that passed for eyes, one on top of the other.

They were security bots. Programmed to identify, locate, and delete intruders and malware.

The virus had reprogrammed them to attack Agent's holo-avatar.

If they tore it apart, her neural cloud would be corrupted.

Agent opened up the settings for them. The current configuration was locked. Without a functional electronic warfare module, she couldn't unlock it. 'I can't turn off the security bots.'

She steeled herself. 'I'll just have to shut them down forcefully.'

The AI targeted one defense program and annihilated it. This translated to her avatar gunning down one jagged-edged humanoid. It collapsed into fragments that scattered and faded away into nothing.

'Now to find that Griffin insect...' Agent rushed forward. The holographic recreations of her harness-attached cannons blazed away, chipping at and felling the other humanoids.

#######

Tracing Welrod's signal, Agent flitted through cyberspace. It had taken her but a second to lock on to the signal. The security bots were the problem. There was no end to them.

Not bothered to hold up her skirt, she raced onward, her arms swinging. Agent found Welrod ten minutes later.

The hand-gunner's avatar was surrounded by bipedal entities. She shot one in the head, reducing it to slivers which evaporated in mid-air. Agent swiftly finished off the others whilst noting how some of them focused on her rather than Welrod.

When the 'area' was cleared, they lowered their weapons.

"We must act quickly, before more of them show up." Agent marched up to Welrod, whose shoulders stiffened.

"Was this threat response caused by the virus?"

"Indeed. It's been engineered far more deviously than I thought. I'm unable to change anything related to my cybersecurity."

Agent opened a window between herself and Welrod. She willed the the virus code to scroll down it.

Scanning the code, Welrod glanced up. "What's the countdown for, exactly?"

"It indicates how much time there is until the anti-Parapluie destroys my neural cloud." Agent sneered. "A final gift from those traitors."

The blonde winced. "Our timetable just got a whole lot smaller, then." She copied the script into a separate file.

"Do hurry up, trash. We're about to be surrounded." Agent eyed the new wave of humanoids encircling them. Her attention returned to the holographic screen the other AI was tapping at.

"Stand by. Transmitting data now." A confirmation came in. "There. All done." Welrod abruptly vanished. She'd disconnected from Agent's electronic headspace.

Agent deactivated her avatar immediately afterwards.

########

Her vision and HUD switched on. She yanked out the cable inserted into the port at her right temple, and let it fall to the floor. The port whirred shut.

"Commander, the situation's gotten worse. We only have an hour and three minutes to make an antivirus for Agent," said Welrod Mk II.

The Commander was aghast. "What?! What happened?"

"Blame the virus. It tried to destroy Agent's neural cloud, but she's holding it off for that time."

Commander Dumont faced the monitor. "Get all that, Persica?"

The scientist's mouth set into a grim line. "Yes. Excuse me for a second. I have to call in some help for us. Welrod by herself won't be enough for this, given the circumstances." She closed the channel.

Dumont looked over at the pistolier. "Looks like you're going to be syncing with other T-Dolls. You ready for that?"

"Yes, sir. Having an electronic warfare module also helps, considering the fact that we'll working on an antivirus." The blonde android tugged on her cropped gloves.

Neural cloud synchronization was the process Welrod Mk II would be involved in for writing the counter program. According to Scarecrow's intel, uncovered months ago, this type of synching was done through the Zener Network. Griffin good-for-nothings used the network for controlling dummies and the exchange of battlefield information.

It was also used for neural synching. This was, in essence, an 'overlap' of two or more T-Dolls' sensory and electronic systems. A number of conditions needed to be met for a successful overlap. A tremendously high amount of RAM, for instance. Many of the leftovers in Griffin's employ had insufficient space for synching. Compatibility was another issue. Differences in hardware and software meant that some Dolls just couldn't match each other's processor speed.

As such, synching was very unlikely to be used on the battlefield.

The main advantage of neural cloud synchronization was speed. Tasks could be completed at a much faster rate. Sangvis Command Dolls couldn't synch, as the option wasn't available for them. Even if they could, there was hardly any reason to. Most of the time they worked independently.

"Does that mean Persica's got your specs?" asked the Commander.

"Yes. She needs them to find me capable partners."

"I guess so. Get that antivirus done, Welrod."

"Understood, sir." Welrod Mk II sat down at the desktop.

Agent scowled. 'I'm reliant on the likes of cannon fodder to save me…'

"Agent, if you could continue to summarise what you know about Sangvis Ferri, I'd appreciate it." Dumont's firm tone made it clear that it was an order.

"…As you wish, Commander." Agent took at a seat at the quartet of tables in the middle of the Command Room. She got the laptop out and resumed typing. In the back of her neural cloud, certain memory files were undergoing cascade encryption. The ex-Ringleader had been running the file encryption system since the moment she and Dumont had settled on an agreement.

Persica reconnected to the Command Room. "I got the help we need. We're ready to begin, Commander."

Dumont nodded. "Go ahead, Persica."

While Agent typed, she pondered about the cause of her recent problems: Anti-Parapluie. She'd determined its code had been derived from its counterpart. But the identity of its creator eluded her.

'Alchemist doesn't specialise in programming, so that rules her out. Dreamer could've been the one to make the virus. However, if she was the creator, she would've preferred for my free will to be overridden. An extra twist just to be crueller. …No. They implemented it, obviously, but neither of them made it. It is possible that… Eliza herself did. She knows the code for Parapluie, she created it. She'd be in the perfect position to create a counterpart.'

That raised the question of why. If true, why did the leader of Sangvis Ferri code the virus presently infecting Agent's systems? Had it been intended as a countermeasure?

Agent glowered fiercely. 'What a ridiculous train of thought. If Eliza wanted to eliminate any traitors, she'd simply execute the order through the OGAS Protocol. My disconnection from it was a detriment to Eliza.' Griffin could use the Anti-Parapluie to disconnect other Ringleaders from OGAS and rewrite their neural clouds. Agent's core heated up as she simmered at the idea. 'The Commander said that he wouldn't have me reprogrammed. Let's see how long he keeps his word.'

The man was being true to their agreement, but this could change at a moment's notice. Humans, compared to most T-Dolls, were much more unpredictable, she'd found. The only Griffin Dolls in recent memory who'd shocked Agent were the members of the AR Team, and one of their helpers during the assault on Safehouse No. 3.

The maid checked the countdown in the upper right corner of her Heads-Up Display. 'Fifty-one minutes left.'

########

Agent was growing restless. Three minutes and forty-four seconds remained. Her circuits buzzed in agitation. There'd been no updates on the progress of the antivirus development. For the past fifteen minutes, Welrod Mk II's finger joints had been clicking irregularly. 'It sounds as if her fingers will break apart at any moment...' Agent herself had been working without pause, but the task of summarising information proved to be a poor distraction.

'Two minutes and nine seconds left...'

Sweat beaded down the Commander's face as he watched the blonde android type. "Persica, we're running out of time...!"

"Don't remind me!" snapped Persica. "We're testing if the code we made works out. Just - just give us another minute."

Dumont fell silent.

Agent drummed her fingers. Realising what she was doing, she quickly stopped.

The maid couldn't focus on her work. She didn't display any of the stress her emotion module was simulating. Agent maintained an apathetic façade.

Out of nowhere, Persica grinned rakishly. "Finally finished. Welrod, get the antivirus into Agent."

Welrod Mk II snatched something out of the terminal, got up, and approached her with a needle-like drive in hand. Agent opened her temple port, and Welrod Mk II jammed the drive in with a click.

An option to accept a file came up in the center of the maid's HUD. She accepted. Another pop-up appeared. It showed a progress bar. The antivirus was being run throughout the entirety of Agent's systems.

The countdown and the progress bar got aligned. She sat very still, hands curled on her thighs and arms straight.

At the 99% mark, the bar stopped filling up. Agent gritted her teeth. 'Shit, there's only five seconds left! Four… three… two… o – '

The progress bar suddenly filled up and her HUD flashed green. Her shoulders drooped. 'That was close…' The pop-ups closed. Agent's vision became normal again.

"Well, did it work?"

"It seems your worth is beyond merely your parts, Griffin garbage. Yes, it worked."

"Not even a thank you? I guess expecting civility from Sangvis scum is too much…"

The Commander turned to the array of monitors.

Persica yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and arching her back. "After all that, I think I need a pick-me-up. You don't need me for the data extraction, right?" Agent could see the scientist's slender fingers twitching erratically.

"I think Welrod can handle it on her own. Thank you for doing this, Persica."

"Mm, no problem, Commander." Persica logged off.

#######

Agent's operating system may have claimed that the antivirus had been successful, but she ran a deep scan just to be certain. Every portion of her neural cloud was analysed to determine whether it'd been cleared of the malware or not. The result from the deep scan came back positive.

The Commander cleared his throat. "Agent, can you connect to the Zener network so we can start the datamining?"

Previously, Agent's attempts to do so had been blocked by the Anti-Parapluie. She raised an eyebrow at Dumont. "Commander, if I connect to the network, that'll trigger the alarm. My IFF is still registered as hostile."

"I can change that," said Welrod. "I recorded the address associated with your IFF signal when we were wired to each other."

"Then get on with it, trash."

"Welrod, change the address recognition."

"On it, Commander." The Doll with emerald optics re-manned the terminal. After dozens of keystrokes and mouse clicks, she declared, "I've updated the Protocol. Agent's signal will be recognised as a friendly."

"Get connected, Agent," commanded Dumont.

She complied and allowed Welrod Mk II to initiate the datamining. That way, the hand-gunner would have no reason to suspect that Agent was hiding anything from her. They and the Commander watched the middle monitor on the wall.

The files that Agent had prepared earlier, both encrypted and not, were being sorted into a directory on-screen. The file containing the memory of her and Dumont's agreement was unencrypted.

'The Commander is aware it's not in his best interests for his higher-ups to know that I can still self-destruct,' thought the maid. 'Suspicion would be cast on both of us if I'd gone ahead with encrypting that file.'

She'd leave it to Commander Dumont to handle the matter. It would be a test of sorts.

"Sir, that's a lot of protected files," Welrod Mk II said.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Welrod. It's part of the deal. They're for my eyes only."

"Commander, over eighty five percent of those files are encrypted! You'd be spending weeks going through them all. Months even." The British android spun around, facing the Commander.

"All the information relevant to Griffin's efforts against Sangvis Ferri is contained in the unencrypted files," Agent cut in. Almost each file was approximately a day's worth of memories, with unedited video and audio.

"What she said." Dumont looked at her. "How much information is there?"

"Everything up to the moment you and I were evacuated, Commander. I saw no point in including anything after that. I've been under constant supervision since then."

Welrod Mk II frowned, but didn't argue.

"Anyway, you can be sure that I'll be taking a look at those protected files," Dumont told the blonde gynoid. "But they're for me only, Welrod. Don't copy any of 'em or try to crack 'em open." He moved towards her and stopped a fist's width away from the spy. "This is an order you will not disobey. Am I understood?"

She peered up at him. Her countenance was a blank mask. "…Yes, sir."

He stepped back. "Good." The Commander surveyed the list of files. "Are these in chronological order?"

The pistolier shook her head. "I'll arrange it that way if you like, Commander Dumont." She rearranged the list, and scrolled up the page. "This is the last protected file. The rest after this are unencrypted."

Dumont leaned forward, his hands planted on the desk. "What's that one's date?"

"March 6th, 2059," answered Agent before Welrod Mk II could confirm.

"The date of the Butterfly Incident… When SF first went rogue." He turned his head.

Agent held the Commander's gaze. 'That's the day when everything changed. When Sangvis Ferri became Eliza's.'

"What's the earliest dated file?" he asked.

"Take a look for yourself, Commander," invited Welrod Mk II. The file's details were on-screen. The most eye-catching piece of information was the year.

2041.

He had no visible reaction, whereas the pistolier goggled at her. Dumont straightened and faced Agent. "So, you're a war vet, huh?" His tone was deceptively neutral.

The maidservant tilted her head. "I've never thought of myself as such. No other human would call a T-Doll that."

He hummed. "Welrod, this doesn't get out."

"Understood, Commander."

"Lemme just copy those files and we'll call it a day." The Commander strode over to the desktop and copied all of the files acquired from Agent onto a drive. "Forward every unencrypted file to Helian, except for the newest one. That needs some trimming. You should look through these, too."

"Oh, I plan on doing so, Commander. Extensively."

"Have fun with that."

#######

The day drew to an end. It was of no interest to Agent that T-Dolls and the human personnel slept in separate blocks, but what intrigued the horned gynoid was the location of the room the Commander chose for her. It was at the very end of the hallway, and right beside his own quarters.

It was not difficult to understand his choice. With the Commander as a neighbour, the likelihood of Agent getting fragged or doused in fire from a Molotov cocktail was almost non-existent. 'Almost, because there must be least one zealot amongst the filth.' That wouldn't deter trespassers who wouldn't be afraid to get up close and personal. 'I'll just have to sleep with one eye open, as the humans say.'

She was far from helpless without her regular weaponry.

Welrod Mk II crossed her arms. "Sir, I must warn you that nobody else in this wing is going to put up with this arrangement."

"You're making it sound like I'm forcing one of my staffers to be roommates with Agent. If it makes you feel better, I'll be sure to sleep with the detonator under my pillow," Dumont remarked dryly. "You can tell everyone else that if you like, Welrod."

"Commander, I – "

"I'm not going to change my decision, Welrod. Have you sent Helian the files?"

"I did that a minute ago."

"Good. Don't start editing the newest file without me. I'll join you shortly."

Welrod sighed, then turned around and marched towards the opposite end of the hallway. She stopped at the third-last door, unlocked it with a keycard, and went inside.

"Agent, with me." The Commander entered his own room. The former Ringleader followed suit, and she heard a hiss as the door slid shut behind her.

Standing by his desk, upon which rested his desktop, Dumont placed a hand on his hip. "Right. Can you check the room for bugs, Agent?" She activated the radio frequency detector installed in her endo-skull and conducted a sweep.

She found nothing.

Dumont folded his arms when she told him this. "Now, uh, look me over."

One check later, she said, "Nothing on you, Commander."

"Huh. Guess Welrod wasn't lying when she said she didn't chip my uniform. You should check your room, too, Agent."

She'd already been planning to do that.

"I'd like for you to give me access to the encrypted files now."

"I sincerely hope you haven't forgotten about our deal, Dumont."

He blinked. "Relax. I'm gonna go take care of that right after you give me the password."

"And what about the human who operated on me?"

"Harkov? He said he wouldn't talk."

Agent looked unamused. "That's enough for you?"

"Mm-hmm. I believe him."

She pursed her lips. "If you say so, Commander." She grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. Agent scribbled the password on it and passed the slip to Dumont. He scrutinized it and took out a Zippo.

"I have a good memory," he assured before setting the piece of paper on fire and letting go. It burned up in mid-air. Sitting down at his desktop, the Commander typed in the password she'd given him, and the protection from the files was removed.

After that, he shut down his computer and walked to the door. Agent stepped out first, and then the Commander.

He handed her a keycard. "For your room. Good night, Agent."

"…Good night, Commander." She headed into her newly assigned quarters. The T-Doll reactivated her detector and uncovered six hidden cameras and eight listening devices. One bead-like microphone had been glued to the underside of her bed. Sometimes she'd had to punch through the wall to yank out a device. 'I'll have the damage repaired tomorrow.'

She took off her headpiece and dropped it on the nightstand. Agent undid her double-buns, letting her hair fall loosely. The T-Doll lay down on the bed, disregarding the covers. If an assassin came for her, she could react quicker. Agent dialled up the sensitivity of her audio receptors and modified her signal sensors. If a Griffin IFF was detected in the room, she would be jolted from her slumber.

At length, she went into a state of recharge.

######

The next morning, Agent woke up at six am. Nobody had come after her last night. She tidied her bed, replaced her white headpiece, and re-styled her synthetic hair into double buns. Afterwards, she put on her gloves. Agent left her quarters and found Dumont waiting in the hallway.

He yawned. "Morning, Agent."

"Good morning, Commander." She clasped her hands at her waist. "Have you finally decided in what capacity I will serve you?"

Dumont smirked. "As a matter of fact, I have. What do you say to becoming my adjutant?"


	7. Chapter 7

_In the second half of the debriefing, Helian raised an important point: "…The possibility remains that this 'Agent' is playing us for fools," she said cautiously as she pressed her monocle into place. _

_Kryuger and Persica observed Xavier through their monitors, while Welrod stood behind him. All of them were gauging his reaction._

_He caught on quickly. "You mean that this could be an attempt to infiltrate Griffin." The weary blonde crossed his arms. He could still feel them ache from the effects of the T4 exoskeleton. "I've thought about that on the way here many times. At some moments it did seem like that could be the case. But then there were other instances, such as when Agent and I got surrounded by mini-gunners, or when missiles were being rained down on us, that I thought Eliza was trying just a _little too hard_ to kill us for this whole thing to be an elaborate ploy."_

"_This Ringleader named 'Judge', who trapped you two, and later fought Agent… She could've been going off-script," Helian suggested. _

_Xavier gave a headshake. "Taking into account everything that I know and witnessed, that's impossible."_

"_You're not talking to your Dolls, Dumont. There's no point in posturing in front of us." Helian laid a hand on one hip. "Do you really believe that the virus Agent was talking about is real?"_

"_I do." He thumbed his chin. _

"_It could be a hoax."_

"_Well, we'll see how real it is when Welrod connects to her."_

######

Xavier rapped his knuckles against Welrod's door. "Come in, Commander." She could tell it was him due to the CCTV camera trained on the entrance to her room. He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it afterwards.

He took in the scenery that made up Welrod's living and working quarters. There was a single bed in the furthest left corner, with one ornately carved nightstand. On a small round table to its right sat a tea set. Images of bright flowers against a midnight background were painted on the teapot and cups. A weapons display case containing SMGs, pistols, and semi-automatic rifles was near the other left-hand side corner, placed perpendicular to a wardrobe.

The blonde Doll's workstation was nowhere in sight. In the previous base, Welrod's quarters had a workspace furthest away from the door and window. 'She's probably got a side-room for it now…'

Sure enough, Welrod herself came through an opening between the nightstand and the wardrobe. It instantaneously closed behind her.

"Commander."

"Welrod. You didn't start editing the footage, did you?"

"No, sir. I was waiting for your arrival."

"Good." The footage he was referring to contained his battles with Agent, as well as video evidence of their negotiations and eventual agreement. "There are some things I'd like you to cut out of the showcase that you'll sending Helian."

Welrod cocked her head. "Such as?"

Folding his arms, Xavier squeezed his left bicep. "Such as when I used the M1911 loaded with EMP rounds that you acquired for me."

She gaped at him. "You had to use that?"

A nod. "Against an Alchemist dummy, yes."

"You didn't mention that in the debriefing." The android's lips drew into a smirk. "But I understand why, Commander."

If Helian and Kryuger heard about it, the former could get Xavier arrested for violating a New Soviet Union law. Even if, by some miracle, she didn't, the information could reach the ears of G&K's client.

In other words, the government.

Then he'd definitely get arrested and tried, regardless of who spoke up for him.

"There's a chance Agent saw that." The Sangvis Command Doll had been getting repaired in Welrod's hideout at the previous base. There, she'd have had access to a concealed security feed.

Welrod shifted her weight to one leg. "What else do you want me to remove, Commander?"

His mouth went dry. "The moment... the moment when Agent subdued me." Covering his face with one hand, he turned his head away. "Can't let Helian see that. I'd never be able to sleep properly again if I knew she'd seen it."

"What happened, Commander?"

He removed his hand and stared at her. "You'll find out for yourself." Xavier took a deep breath. "Welrod, the third scene I don't want anyone to see is when Agent and I made our deal."

Shock flashed in her emerald irises. "Anyone, sir...? Even me?"

Swallowing, the Commander nodded. "Even you. I've told Helian and Kryuger all that they need to know at the debriefing."

Welrod stepped towards him. "But not everything that _should_ be known. Right, sir?"

'This is it. The moment where I either pull this off or fuck up spectacularly...'

He let his arms fall down by his sides. "Welrod, do you trust me?"

She faltered. "Commander, what kind of a question is that? Of course I do."

Xavier narrowed his eyes. "Then do you also trust that I would never unnecessarily jeopardize the T-Dolls and humans under my command?"

Welrod frowned. "...You've proven that several times over, including last night, Commander."

He loosened his shoulders. "Going by that logic, you should realise that I'm not trying to hide anything that'd threaten the lives of my subordinates." That was a lie. Agent could make herself blow up if anyone found out about the bomb in her chest which had been there all along. Xavier's job was to make sure no one else found out about it.

Welrod bared her teeth, one hand near her jaw. Recovering, she lowered her arm and straightened her posture. "Nice try, sir. But if it's not something dangerous, then what is it that you're so adamant on not revealing?"

Xavier crossed his arms again. He gazed at a spot on the wall to his right. "It's... personal."

The leather gloves on Welrod's hands squeaked as they curled into fists. "'Personal'...? Like the encrypted files?"

He focused completely on the T-Doll. "Exactly."

'I'll wait for her response.' Saying too much would undo his work.

Welrod hung her head. "T-This is... it's in my programming to pry and learn as much as possible." She looked up. "Are you going to make it an order, Commander?"

"No."

"Huh?"

'If I make it an order, sooner or later, she'll watch the footage to figure out what I'm hiding.' Xavier lifted his chin up. "I'm giving you a choice, Welrod. Decide yourself what you will do next."

"You never cease to surprise me... Any other Commander would just tell me to not stick my nose in their business and leave it at that."

"Then they've never worked with an independent T-Doll like you. Have you made your choice?"

Welrod tugged at her gloves. "I have, sir. I will... not look at any of the footage of your deal-making. Nor will I pass it on to anybody else."

Xavier relaxed. He trusted the HG Doll to keep her word. Whether good or bad, her promises were always ironclad. "Thank you, Welrod. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"If you could provide the relevant timestamps, that'd make things much easier for me."

"I'll do that now."

#######

Xavier plopped down on his bed. Unlocking his tablet, he plugged in his headphones. He accessed his cloud storage and tapped on the file labelled '6th March 2059.' A window for the video player opened in full screen and he began watching.

#########

The next morning, Xavier woke up, got dressed, and left for his office. He arrived there at 0521. Along the way, he'd gotten a steaming cup filled with coffee from the machine in the staff lounge, and a plastic-wrapped bagel from a vending machine down the corridor.

He sat at his desk. Accessing the security feed, the Commander saw that MG5 was out and about. He contacted his adjutant via her frequency.

"MG5, meet me in my office."

It took her ten minutes to reach him.

"_Guten Morgen_, Commander," she said upon entering the room.

"Morning, MG5. Please, sit." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. Brushing her silvery bangs away from her visage, the machine-gunner took her seat.

"Yesterday," Xavier began without preamble, "you asked me what Agent's role would be under my command. Today, I have an answer. Before you react to it, I'd like to explain my reasons for my choice."

MG5 bobbed her head, her shoulder-length hair swaying with the motion. "I understand, Commander."

"I plan to instate Agent as my adjutant."

Hurt flashed in her optics as her lips twitched into a minute frown. Elbows on his desk, Xavier steepled his fingers. "Will you allow me to explain myself?"

She nodded.

"Alright. I need Agent to be assimilated into our ranks, and I need my subordinates to get used to her presence. Giving her this position will keep her around plenty of witnesses, and will reduce the suspicion of her plotting something behind our backs."

"...You believe that she isn't, Commander?"

"Contrary to what the rumour mill is saying, Agent has dedicated herself fully to her current path." The submission of the pre-Griffin/Sangvis war memories was proof of that.

"And you trust her enough to give her the position of adjutant?"

'Yes, I do trust Agent. I'm not sure to what extent, though. That's something I will determine in the coming weeks.'

MG5 closed her eyes. "...Your judgement hasn't failed us before, and I don't believe it will now. I can't put much stock in her. But if you're confident that she's up to the task, then I have no objections."

"Stop, you're making me blush," he drawled.

Cat-like optics entranced him. "This won't go down well with anyone else, though. Your standing will be affected by this decision, Commander Dumont."

"I know my popularity will take a hit. I'm prepared for that."

"Not everyone will understand, or want to understand why Agent is replacing me as adjutant. This could backfire, Commander," warned MG5.

'I know I'm taking a massive gamble. This will either be a success or a catastrophic failure...'

"I know."

"Some may even want to leave, or be transferred to serve under a different Commander."

"I know."

"...You're an idiot."

"I kno - " He glared at the MG Doll.

She chuckled. "Just checking that you're paying attention." MG5 sobered up. "If things take a turn for the worst, then reinstate me as adjutant."

"That's what I had in mind."

"So then, Commander. What will my new role be?"

"You'll be resume being the captain of your team."

"I'm replacing G36? She certainly won't like that."

Xavier placed his hands on the table. "I've been meaning for someone else to take her place as team leader for a while now. I'm worried that with the workload she's taken on, her neural cloud could burn out..."

Apart from being team leader, G36 saw it fit to clean all the dorms, prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner for her fellow Dolls, and help out in the repair bay.

"G36 hardly ever gets a moment of peace," said MG5. "She's the definition of a workaholic. Knowing her, she'll just find something else to take up her time."

G36 herself was called in shortly afterwards. She stopped beside MG5, and bowed.

"_Guten Morgen_, Commander Dumont, MG5. You wish to speak with me, sir?"

"Yes. This concerns you, MG5, and one other. You're an outstanding team leader, G36. But your workload worries me. It's not causing you any stress, is it?"

"_Nein_, Commander." Her instantaneous response made Xavier think that the fair-haired maid was trying to deny the possibility of there being stress. Instead of giving an honest answer.

"Really? Well, I was thinking of easing your workload for a short period."

She squinted at the Commander. "And what would this involve?"

"You're being relieved of your position as echelon leader for one month. MG5 has agreed to take over that position."

G36 glared. "Along with her duties as adjutant? Absurd."

"MG5 is not going to continue being the adjutant."

She gasped. "Then who will replace her?"

#######

A little while after six am, the Commander went to find Agent. According to the CCTV, she hadn't yet left her room. He gave her five minutes before going to knock on her door. Just as he was about to do so, she stepped out.

Xavier failed to supress a yawn. "Morning, Agent."

"Good morning, Commander." Wearing her usual attire, the ex-Ringleader clasped her hands at her waist. "Have you finally decided in what capacity I will serve you?"

He let a smirk spread out across his countenance. "As a matter of fact, I have. What do you say to becoming my adjutant?"

No reaction; Agent was stone-still. "Don't you currently have an adjutant?"

"I did. MG5's agreed to step down for the time being."

Agent sighed, bringing one gloved hand to her face. "How troublesome... you expect me to face all of Griffin's dregs here on a daily basis." SF's former Number Two reassumed her previous stance. "What exactly would my duties be?"

"Reporting on things like T-Doll repairs and training sessions, managing logistics with Kalina, analysing combat data with her. That's just the start. I'll send you the full list soon."

"I'm going to be babysitting Griffins. How delightful." Agent's alto voice oozed venom.

"Get used to it," he replied cheerfully.

Agent cupped her elbows. "I suppose this is a fitting punishment..."

He became serious. "Some people might see it that way, but that's not my intention."

Xavier waited for Agent to realise it. She furrowed her brow. "...Your aim is to integrate me into the ranks," deduced the Rear Command-type Doll. "I must admit, this is a bold way of going about it."

'If I didn't take risks, I wouldn't have lasted long as a Commander.'

"I only pray the cretins you're in charge of don't stage a mutiny because of this," Agent carried on. "Very well." Holding up the sides of her skirt, she curtsied. "I accept the position, and the responsibilities and troubles that come with it." She smoothed it out afterwards. "May we speak in private?"

"...Sure." He headed into his room, with Agent trailing behind. The door to his quarters slid shut. Xavier faced his one-time enemy. She was holding up her left elbow with her right palm, her left hand aloft.

"Commander, have you ensured that nobody apart from that technician is aware of the fine details of our agreement?"

Xavier folded his arms. "I have. I convinced Welrod to not watch the related footage. She said that she wouldn't let anyone see it."

Agent gave the man a flat look. "And you believe her, just like that?"

"She'll keep her word," he replied firmly. He wouldn't tolerate her doubting Welrod.

Agent's eyelids fell. "Curious. You trust that nuisance to do so, but you don't believe she'll remain silent if she found out that I can self-destruct." They then lifted.

He tapped his right bicep repeatedly. "Welrod would feel compelled to report that information to Helian and Kryuger. I wouldn't be able to talk her out of doing that if she knew."

"I see."

######

Thirty minutes later, all the available echelon leaders were summoned to the Command Room for Xavier's announcement. Those who couldn't be there in person attended via hologram. He entered the room, his stomach knotting itself over and over again. 'Kinda funny that I'm more nervous about this announcement than I am when on the battlefield... Just goes to show the wonders of adrenaline...'

FAL, Type 95, Mk 23, and the holographic display of M4A1 turned around to face him. As Thompson's echelon was missing its captain, Ingram had elected to come in her stead. Kalina was in attendance, too. All the aforementioned people were on Xavier's side of the table in the center of the room. The rest of the team captains, along with MG5, were on the other side of that table.

The monitors on the walls occasionally switched between maps and file reports.

Steeling himself, Xavier approached the table. "Morning, everyone."

"Good morning, Commander!" Kalina smiled. He stood between her and Mk23. "So, what's this meeting about?"

"Yeah, what're we all here for?" added Ingram.

The Commander placed his hands on the table. "I have an announcement related to our newest... recruit."

FAL tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. "Agent? What about her?"

"Starting from today, she's going to be my adjutant." Scanning the room, he gauged their reactions. Mk23, Type 95, and LWMMG recoiled in horror. M4A1's image flickered, revealing a small frown on her face. MG5 and G36 exchanged a knowing glance.

"Commander, you can't be serious!" protested Kalina. A few others voiced similar thoughts.

"And what about MG5?" FAL grabbed the strap of her handbag.

"I've agreed to reassume the position of team captain, and lead my old squad again," replied the machine-gunner.

"G36, did you know this?"

"MG5 and the Commander informed me earlier of the decision." G36 had her hands together behind her back. "I do not oppose it."

Ingram slammed a fist on the table. "Well, I most certainly do!" Kalina, Mk23, and M4A1 flinched at the noise. Xavier was unfazed. "You said that Sangvis would be punished! How's that a punishment?! It's as if you're rewarding her for her past crimes against Griffin. Against us."

Xavier inhaled deeply.

And exhaled.

He made sure to lock gazes with Ingram. "I can see why you'd think that, Ingram." He read the room again. "Why many of you would. But rest assured, I haven't forgotten Agent's past actions at all. You see, this _is_ actually a punishment."

A puzzled M4A1 asked, "How, sir?"

A smirk creased Xavier's features. "In a psychological sense."

"'Psychological'...?"

"Absolutely. After all, Agent hates Griffin T-Dolls." An irrefutable fact. Many had witnessed proof of it when SF echelons raided the previous base. "In this role, she'll be forced to work closely with many of you. It'll be quite the learning experience, to say the least."

"So that's what you meant when you said Agent's punishment won't 'involve bodily harm or hacking', darling."

"That's right, Mk23."

"But to promote her to adjutant... It's just so sudden," M4 admitted. Everyone save for MG5 and G36 chimed in with their agreements.

Arms across his chest, Xavier bobbed his head. "I understand. But Agent herself will not be able to issue orders without my approval."

Kalina frowned. "That sounds... inefficient, Commander. Is she going to have to call you every time she wants to give an order?"

"No. She'll be receiving randomized authorization codes from me for that." Xavier didn't want Agent to just be his mouthpiece. However, he would have to approve of any idea of her own that she ran by him before it would become an order. 'I'm not about to hand her the keys to the kingdom, so to speak.'

Type 95 sought clarification. "Authorization codes, Commander Dumont?"

"A system devised by Welrod," he explained. "Each code will be different, but it'll always contain a signature mark, so you know it's coming from me, and it's not some fake." Welrod guaranteed that the signature wasn't something a T-Doll on-site could copy or edit using software within her neural cloud. 'Unless it's a program downloaded from the dark web. Even then, there are safeguards in place to stop somebody else from using those authorization codes,' thought Xavier. "Everyone will receive the signature mark for reference."

FAL put away the compact mirror she'd been looking at. "Commander, what's been done to ensure Agent isn't a threat to us?"

"Safety measures have been implemented. She's been tagged with a bomb and a tracker."

"A bomb, huh?" repeated one echelon leader. "Who's got the detonator, then?"

He scowled at the sniper who'd spoken. "That's need-to-know, DSR."

She chortled lowly. "I'm certain you've got a detonator, Commander. But who else? Miss Kalina, perhaps?"

"Enough, DSR. You won't get any answers to your questions." Xavier's thunderous expression, coupled with his calm voice, unsettled Kalina and the Dolls present.

Except for one.

"Don't take it personally, Commander Dumont. Miss DSR here doesn't know when to stop talking," said this Doll. She had orange goggles on her head of cyan hair. Her fingernails were painted either orange, black, or light blue. The azure tie linked to her choker contrasted against the front of her shoulderless black coat. The T-Doll's legs were encased in asymmetrical stockings: one was pinstriped white and cyan, the other completely jet-black. 'Zas M21' was imprinted on the sides of her calf-high, multi-coloured boots.

It was DSR-50's turn to scowl. "Who asked you for your take, Zastava?"

"Certainly not you. But I wouldn't care either way," said Zastava M21 airily. "It's not as though you were being a bother or anything."

"My, my. Someone's getting a little ahead of themselves, don't you think?"

"Can it, you two," Xavier barked. Zas and DSR both quietened. He pressed his palms onto the table. He appreciated Zas' distraction, but he didn't want another headache. 'I get enough of those from Helian.'

Type 95 put on her fingerless gloves. "Does Agent even know about this arrangement of yours, sir?"

"She's agreed to become my adjutant."

This startled everyone.

"S-She did?"

"Unbelievable…!"

"I thought you said she hates us…"

"Don't misunderstand, trash," interrupted someone with a contralto. "I only agreed because it was an order from Commander Dumont." Xavier whirled round. Agent was standing in the doorway, Welrod at her side. The defector strode forward to stand beside him. Kalina and FAL moved away.

"Eyesores, the whole lot of you," Agent said scornfully.

"This is who we have to work with?" muttered Mk23.

Xavier leaned on the table. "I don't expect anyone to become best friends, but what I do expect is cooperation. Is that clear?"

His new adjunct was the first to answer. She curtsied. "As you wish, Commander."

All the others responded with, "Understood, sir," or something to that effect.

"Dismissed."

########

'After that meeting with the echelon captains, I had one with the human staff members. Their reactions overall were pretty similar.' Xavier was in the Command Room with Welrod. Agent had left to carry out her duties for the day.

Sitting by the Commander's board, he was on his tactical tablet. Once in a while, a verification request came from Agent, from the tablet issued to her. His smart device would beep, he would read the message and then approve her request. 'It's a bit tedious, but so far things are going fine. No one's really opposed any of the commands I've had Agent relay.'

"Sir, we're receiving a call," Welrod said, her palms on the comms console. A red light on it was blinking.

"Who's it from?"

"Miss Helian."

Xavier inwardly groaned. 'I'd love to go for more than one day in a row without hearing her voice...' He rose from his workstation, and joined the T-Doll, his tablet in hand. "Put her through."

Welrod accepted the call. A hologram of his supervisor sprang to life before them. "Commander Dumont."

Hands on his hips, Xavier said, "Helian. Have you seen the compilated footage from Agent's neural cloud?"

Helian adjusted her monocle. "Indeed, I have. I thought you were embellishing - " This prompted an eyeroll from Xavier " - but that doesn't appear to be the case. Mr Kryuger has taken the evidence into consideration." She hesitated. "However, that's not what I've called you for." Folding her arms, she looked to the side. "I suppose, as a courtesy, I'm calling to inform you that the operation to retake your stronghold will soon be underway."

The Commander clenched his jaw. The old base had been thought of as home by many T-Dolls. It should've been theirs to reclaim. But he understood the woman's reasoning. The sooner, the better. And Xavier didn't have the numbers to conduct such an operation by himself. 'We're still recovering... Nobody's gonna be thrilled about this, either...'

"Tell whoever's running the op, good luck with the Jupiter cannons there," he remarked sardonically. Several of those monstrosities had been placed on the cliffsides near that stronghold. One Jupiter could annihilate a platoon of Dolls with a single shot. That was one example of their devastation. Xavier's grave error had been not paying sufficient attention to the cliffsides. 'I need to keep a sharper eye on base defenses here. I won't let something like that happen again.'

"They're aware of the dangers," said Helian. Agent's intel had included information on the Jupiters. The ex-Ringleader had been able to identify only one weakness. Once encircled, the Jupiter ceased to launch missiles, leaving only its mounted gun turrets to contend with. For that to occur, T-Dolls had to get close to it.

'A suicide run... In the end, G&K T-Dolls are gonna be the ones paying the price...' Short of bombarding the Jupiters on the cliffsides from afar, rushing them was the sole working strategy that Xavier could come up with. 'And Helian's all too happy to assign this op to a Commander she views as more reliable. Someone that won't lose Griffin its precious territory.'

"You're welcome to lend a few echelons for the upcoming mission. After all, you've got some very capable - "

Xavier barked out a bitter laugh, cutting Helian off. He leaned on the comms console. "Call me possessive or whatever, but I'm not gonna loan my T-Dolls to a Commander that I'm clueless about."

"As expected. You never provide Support Echelons," she criticised. "Why start now?"

"Unfortunately, I can't stop you from borrowing the AR team since they're - and I quote - 'property of 16LAB'."

M4 and her sisters being products of 16LAB was why Xavier didn't dare to enhance them or give them dummies to link with. He reckoned it was up to their creator, Persica. If she didn't say anything about it, he wouldn't as well. Upgrading the Anti-Rain sisters could be misconstrued as tampering with them. He didn't want to risk that.

"You know damn well why they can't be deployed."

"Yeah. Because all the local Sangvis would get a massive tizzy at the sight of 'em, and that'd ruin the op you've organised."

Helian's monocle glinted. "That's putting it crudely, but yes. Tell me, what role have you given Agent?"

Xavier smirked. "She's acting as my adjutant."

Helian froze. Her eyes widened as she gaped at him. Her eyeglass began to slip off, but she managed to catch it. "You did what?"

"I made Agent my adjutant."

"Are you insane?" hissed Helian. "You're just giving her access to critical intel regarding your echelons. You don't think she could transmit it back to her oh-so-precious master?"

"Agent is done with serving Eliza. She would never of her volition – "

"I didn't say free will would be a factor."

Heart hammering in his ribcage, Xavier looked at Welrod beside him. "You find any hidden programs while you were inside her neural cloud?" Helian had to be referring to a sleeper switch. It would cause Agent to lose control of herself.

A headshake from the hand-gunner. "Nothing of the sort. And I checked multiple times, just to be sure."

The tension eased out of him. "There you go. You know yourself how thorough Welrod is, Helian."

"Not always."

Welrod scowled at the Commander's superior officer.

"Funny how you doubt one of your 'most trusted assets' in this instance. In any case," Xavier said, "I'm letting Agent just handle the day-to-day things on-site." He wasn't worried about SF being aware of the state of his troops or how many were still combat-capable. Eliza and her Ringleaders had already seen that for themselves at the battle on the train tracks. "Welrod's still gonna handle the top-secret stuff. Confidential files won't be shared with Agent unless the situation calls for it."

"Unbelievable… And MG5 agreed to this madness? Or did you reprogram her to get your way, Dumont?"

He threw a scathing look at his supervisor. "I hope that was a joke, Helian, because you know exactly how I feel about reprogramming."

Helian pinched the bridge of her nose. "I should put a stop to this. I really should."

Xavier felt his shoulders tense up.

The other officer brought her hand down. All of a sudden, she smiled spitefully. "But I won't."

'Where's she going with this…?'

"I won't protest Agent being your adjutant," continued Helian. "I'll simply allow everyone to see what kind of Commander and man you really are."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Welrod demanded, her fists clenched.

"Don't raise your voice at me. Is that any way to address your superior?"

Xavier laid a hand on the T-Doll's shoulder. "Easy, Welrod. Lemme deal with this." She acquiesced and moved out of the holo-projector's range so that Helian wouldn't be able to see her.

"Everyone on-site is aware of my decision. You won't be blindsiding anyone here." The Commander folded his arms. He savoured the disappointment on Helian's countenance that lasted for but a second.

"How unfortunate…"

"What? You thought I'd wait for your approval, Helian?"

"…unfortunate that you don't seem to realise what you've brought on yourself, Dumont. I can imagine the discontent in the ranks. It'll only grow from here on out."

Dipping his chin, he shut his eyes. "Uh-huh. Are we done? 'Cause I've got a base to run, and you've probably got another mixer waiting for you."

"How did you know…?"

"I guessed." Kalina had been the one to tell him about the frequency with which Helian attended mixers. Xavier lifted his head, his gaze boring into the supervisor's hologram. "Hopefully you'll have better luck this time."

Glowering, Helian disconnected without a word. The hologram disappeared.

"Was that last part really necessary, Commander?" asked Welrod.

He shrugged. "It got her to leave, didn't it?"

#########

Berezovich Kryuger had an imposing figure and an aura that would make most think twice before attempting to attack him. These traits were effective against the majority of the people in his life, but not the man he was about to meet.

The man who he had served under during World War Three.

Brigadier General Carter.

The bearded giant in red saw his former CO approaching. Clad in his dark-green uniform, he was slimmer than Berezovich, but almost just as tall. His deathly pale skin and craggy countenance had made many of the General's critics and rivals question whether he was fit to continue serving in his current position. Carter had time and time again proven that he was more than capable of doing so.

'A face-to-face meeting like this… is doing neither of us favours. If even one journalist caught wind of it, both of us would be dealing with unnecessary attention from the media,' thought the co-founder of G&K. 'As it stands, General Carter called for today's meeting.'

"General Carter," said Kryuger in greeting. The light breeze blowing through the area caused the fur-collared longcoat hanging off his shoulders to billow.

"Kryuger," responded Carter. "You look a bit uncomfortable."

'He can tell? Even Helian can't pick up on that, and I haven't seen Carter for nearly a year… I suppose there are some things you just can't hide from your former commanding officer.'

"I think you can guess why, General Carter."

The other hummed. "Believe me, this meeting is necessary. My car isn't far from here. We'll talk there."

"Lead the way." Berezovich followed the pallid man through the car park. The general's venue of choice turned out to be an armoured personnel carrier.

'The definition of inconspicuous…' Griffin's leader mocked as he climbed in. The interior was different to that of a typical APC. Plush leather seats, no gun racks in the center of the vehicle. There was an advanced comms system to his left and multiple hologram emitters situated beside and above him. 'This must've been customised for Carter's use.'

Carter climbed in after Berezovich and sat down opposite him.

"What did you wish to discuss?"

"Griffin's progress, naturally, Kryuger."

It'd been four days since Xavier Dumont's debriefing. In that time, the intel from the Sangvis Ringleader he'd recruited had been double- and triple-checked, and other Commanders had been rallied to launch their greatest offensive against Sangvis Ferri yet. The enemy forces were being steadily pushed back towards the mountains where their central facility was located.

"You've made astonishing progress, especially in the last couple of days," complimented Carter. "But in the recent reports you've submitted to me, the source of the intel that made your latest advance possible is never mentioned."

Berezovich inhaled quietly. He had to be careful with his words. Getting Dumont in trouble with the New Soviet Union's brass was the last thing on his mind. "A Sangvis Ringleader."

"One of those murderers, then… I can think of only a few who'd have that much information."

The PMC leader nodded. "The one called the Grand Overseer."

"Ah… And Griffin managed to capture it?" Carter seemed faintly surprised.

"One of my Commanders succeeded in the endeavour." Saying otherwise would lead to conversations he'd prefer to avoid.

"Which one, Kryuger?"

'Outright lying to Carter about the man's identity isn't an option. Unfortunately, the KCCO will start paying more attention to Dumont.'

"Xavier Dumont."

Carter stroked his snow-like goatee. "That doesn't sound like the name of anyone born in the New Soviet Union."

'Speak for yourself, 'Carter'…'

"Yes, yes, I'm aware how that sounds, coming from me," added the general quickly. "I must say, your PMC's efforts are commendable." He assumed a sombre expression. "But they are disrupting KCCO operations in several sectors." The KCCO was the branch of the NSU military that Carter was leader of.

"I was never told about those."

Carter smiled grimly. "They were supposed to be top-secret missions in Sangvis-controlled territory."

"In other words, nobody at Griffin was meant to know about them."

"I'm afraid not."

Berezovich furrowed his brow. "Please indicate to me in which regions Griffin is interrupting KCCO ops, General Carter."

"I have no choice, do I? It'd be unreasonable for me to order you to completely halt your PMC's big push against the Sangvis threat. Very well." Carter flipped a switch on the holo-projector attached to the car's ceiling. Instantly, a flickering shape was beamed between the two men. The shape rearranged itself into a hovering 3D map.

"Griffin has six fronts in the areas of interest." Carter tapped different spots on the map, each time highlighting it with a crimson circle. "Here, here, here, here, here and here."

"Then from where must my forces withdraw to accommodate the KCCO's ops?"

Four of the six of circles on the holographic map became amber. "The locations pinpointed with a yellow marker."

Berezovich recalled the strategy teleconference he'd had with the Commanders who were currently in the theatres highlighted by Carter. 'The two regions that he didn't mark… The Commanders in those areas are experiencing the most difficult fighting. In the four areas that Griffin has taken from the KCCO, the battles there are, in comparison, much less intense. Leave it to Carter to let me keep the most troublesome zones, and to take the more easily-captured territory for himself.'

"How much time are you giving me?"

"Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours to completely remove any trace of Griffin from these four regions."

"And then the military will move in immediately?"

Carter frowned. "I'm not supposed to discuss op details with you, Kryuger."

"You're the head of the KCCO. Who - ?"

Carter sighed. "The minister of defense. Our new directive comes from him. He's ordered everyone in High Command to keep their lips sealed. I've been ordered to inform you in person."

Berezovich's scowl intensified. "The minister of defense… is he even aware of the current situation?"

"He's being updated regularly."

'The minister of defense… If it were something concerning a clash between KCCO and Griffin missions, he'd tell me himself, not use Carter as a messenger.'

"I should contact his office to clarify the issue."

"Be serious, Kryuger. The minister's a very busy man. When do you think he'll find the time to answer questions from the leader of a PMC?"

'A deflection if I ever heard one.' Berezovich breathed out through his nose. '…It appears that we're both keeping secrets, Carter. Only yours are related to the entirety of my organization.'

"Then when can Griffin resume operations in the theatres that the KCCO intends to take over?"

The brigadier general grimaced. "I can't give you an ETA. But when our missions are over, I will personally inform you. You've been sent the relevant coordinates."

"…Understood. I'll have to inform my Commanders of these sudden changes, General."


	8. Chapter 8

Agent had long found that maintenance pods were comparable to coffins. They were similar in size and shape, and both contained a body, albeit for different purposes. In the grey-walled repair bay, only two pods were operational. Mechanical limbs, their ends bearing tools like drills, claws or magnets, were constantly whirring as they aided the technicians in the repairs. The other six pods had not been activated.

She was investigating the reason why.

It turned out to be glaringly obvious.

The encyclopedia-sized silvery lock attached to the side of each of the unused maintenance pods, adjacent to its control panel. Agent could hear tiny clicks from within the lock. Its keyhole continuously changed shape, shrinking, expanding, or growing ridges. She peered through it. A row of five various cogs was in the lock. They rotated clockwise, or anticlockwise.

"A mechanically shifting lock…" muttered the horned gynoid, crouched beside a pod.

"Indeed," someone next to her added. It was the lead technician, Harkov. "They're the main cause of our slow repair rate. Trying to break the lock apart will, unfortunately, result in the pod self-destructing. IOP company policy. We're waiting for a specialist to arrive. They'll have to open the locks with keys in suitable configurations."

Agent looked up at him. "Tch. Do you have an ETA?"

He shook his head. "We weren't given one."

"Unacceptable. Fetch me a toolbox."

The man goggled at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"A toolbox," she repeated. "I require instruments."

"For what, exactly?"

"Why, for unlocking these pods, of course." Agent read the model name written in steel letters on the pod's side. "A TX-600. I'm quite familiar with this series. More relevantly, I've had practice unlocking mechanically shifting locks."

'It took many, many tries for me to get it right,' she remembered. 'Eighty-nine attempts, as I recall. These accursed things have blown up in my face a number of times. …Who would've thought I'd be using my lock-picking skills to aid Griffin pests?"

The lead technician hesitated. Their conversation was starting to get more attention. Good-for-nothings pretending not to eavesdrop were rather poor at doing so.

Agent rolled her optics. She picked up the tablet at her feet and sent a quickly typed message to Dumont.

**Order the lead technician to lend me tools.**

His response: **Why? What do you need them for?**

**To unlock the locked repair pods.**

**Can you actually do it?**

**I've had practice. And yes, I'm aware of the consequences of my failure**.

His next reply was a new authorization code, which she forwarded to Harkov's smart device. "Check your tablet. The Commander has approved my order."

After checking his inbox, Harkov said grimly, "So he has." He turned to a white coat-clad assistant. "You heard the adjutant."

Two technicians rushed over with a jangling box of tools. It clanged when they set it down to Agent's right. She opened the box and rifled through it. 'I need a screwdriver… a needle-like instrument…'

"If I may ask, why did you come by this skill?" inquired Harkov.

She didn't pause. Why? Because after an echelon had suffered significant damage, there hadn't always been an opportunity to return to an outpost or to the central facility for full repairs. Eliza had often expected Agent and her units to continue moving out and expanding Sangvis territory. The shielder had realised that Griffin's repair bays had to be utilised sometimes in order to meet the deadlines set out by Sangvis Ferri's leader.

"You may, but don't expect an answer. I have to concentrate, technician." Agent inserted a spindly screwdriver through the coin-wide keyhole. Precision and speed were both important for lockpicking a mechanically shifting lock. If the cogs were jammed for too long, the lock and the maintenance pod would explode. Moreover, if a cog was stopped at the wrong moment, she wouldn't be able to jam the neighbouring cog. 'The entire point of jamming them is to create a clear, straight path to the other side of the lock's interior, where there's a switch.'

Agent enhanced her vision, zooming in on the turning gears. She waited for the correct moment. 'There!' She jammed in the screwdriver. It caused the first cog to grind to a halt. Grabbing another screwdriver, the android focused on the second cog, and repeated the process. She inserted a sturdy pin to jam the neighbouring gear. The fourth and fifth gears were consequently jammed by her, too. Finally, Agent slid a pin-like drill tip through the keyhole. Unobstructed, the drill tip moved until it bumped into the far wall of the lock's interior.

A loud click resounded throughout the repair bay. The mech-shifting lock detached from the maintenance pod, and clanged to the tiled floor. The control panel on the pod glowed green, activating. 'Five more to go,' thought Agent. She ignored the looks of surprise and the whispers around her.

"I didn't think that'd work."

"How did she learn that?"

"Could she teach us?"

"Are you kidding? I want nothing to do with that Sangvis…!"

Agent interrupted, "If the peanut gallery could be silent, that'd be tremendous. My work here isn't finished yet."

The whispers ceased.

* * *

_"How much longer, Agent?"_

_"What did I say about interrupting me while I'm lockpicking, Destroyer?"_

_"To not do it..."_

_'Good. At least you can remember something...' Unfortunately, at that very moment, Agent mistimed the jamming of a cog, and the maintenance pod she'd been trying to unlock erupted in her face. Her HUD splintered like cracking glass. Shrapnel pierced her voicebox._

_Her agony was silent._

_The last thing her neural cloud recorded before she died was Destroyer screaming her name._

* * *

_Agent had failed to unlock a maintenance pod again. She didn't have to upload her neural cloud into a new body this time, but the damage was unsightly._

_She looked down at the sparking jagged ends of her forearms. She couldn't feel her lips or chin._

_They'd gotten blown off, along with her hands. Her pain receptors fired off a torrent of signals that would've made another Doll spasm and howl._

_She was acutely aware of the gigantic hole in her cheek, of the metallic shards lodged in her exposed endo-skull._

_"You're getting repaired first," said somebody at her side. Scarecrow's green-and-black mask didn't hide how concerned the other Ringleader was. "Sangvis parts only, of course."_

_Scarecrow led Agent gently to the nearest available maintenance pod, their boots clacking against the tiled floor. The pod opened with a hydraulic hiss._

_"I'll ensure nobody interrupts your repairs." Scarecrow watched Agent lay down inside it. The lid came down, and clicked shut. _

* * *

The sixth mechanically shifting lock fell away with a clang. Agent yanked out the pins and screwdrivers in its keyhole, and placed them back in the toolbox. She stood up. It'd taken her forty to sixty seconds to unlock each lock. Any longer and they would've exploded. 'Timing is key. Even the exact moment to start lockpicking is a factor to consider…'

"…Thank you," said Harkov.

Her lips pursed, she faced the man. "Don't thank me. If it wasn't for the Commander, I wouldn't be here. Just do your job and restore his fighting force to a combat-ready state."

Nodding, Harkov called to his staff, "Bring in the next six T-Dolls, one to a pod. And get the other techs in here. We'll need their help, too."

A technician saluted. "Sir!"

Agent studied the waiting area. There, a number of T-Dolls with various degrees of damage lay on slabs. Most were missing at least an arm, a leg, or an optic. "Why are these leftovers on display?"

Harkov grunted. "They're not on display. They're waiting for repairs, but their parts haven't arrived yet. I've ordered in several shipments. The T-Dolls over there will undergo repairs as soon as we get the parts."

"Then I will ensure the logistics teams do not dally. I must take my leave. I have other matters to attend to."

Her tablet in hand, she strode out of the repair bay. The T-Dolls and humans in her path gave her a wide berth.

Turning a corner, Agent felt her tablet vibrate as it began to ring. She held it up and answered. "Commander Dumont."

"Great work out there, Agent. The T-Doll repairs will be going a lot faster now."

"That was the intention, Commander. What are your new orders?"

"Go inspect the dorms. I want to know what sort of conditions my T-Dolls are living in."

"Understood, Commander."

* * *

The dorms were almost devoid of T-Dolls, and Agent could see why nobody wanted to stay a second longer than needed.

Cracked walls, crumbling plaster, stained ceilings, concrete floors.

The Griffins slept on long ammo crates, and used square grenade containers as seats or tables.

In summary, the dormitories were abysmal. 'I almost pity these pieces of garbage,' Agent thought to herself.

The second-last dorm to be inspected still had two T-Dolls in it. One had crosshair-shaped hair clips on her bangs, and wore a beret. Her greyish hair was styled in a braided ponytail. The combination of her scarlet scarf, shirt, skirt and boots reminded Agent of a girl scout.

'Except this pest has got a cunning look in her optics.'

The second T-Doll was petite, wearing shorts, red runners, and a yellow two-buttoned top under a short-sleeved jacket. Her synthetic blonde hair was arranged into twintails with the use of angular accessories. She glared at Agent the instant she laid her uncovered eye on her.

"Clear the room. I'm going to be inspecting it," commanded Agent.

"Why should we?" asked the first Doll. "For all we know, you just want us out of the way under the pretense of an inspection."

"I was authorised by the Commander to do so." Agent held up her tablet and showed them the instructions and the attached authorisation code from Dumont. 'I suspect it won't be enough to get the insects to cooperate...'

"Somehow, the idea of leaving a Sangvis alone in our dorm just doesn't sit right with me. Whaddaya think, Skorpion?"

The second Doll didn't take her optic off Agent as she answered, "I agree. There's no way I'm letting this Sangvis simply roam free and do as she pleases here."

'That face... that expression...' Agent accessed the files stored in her memory module. She cross-referenced the countenance filling her vision against a number of visages that she'd witnessed seven months ago, at Safehouse No. 3.

A match was found.

"Ah... You're that firebomber..." recalled Agent.

Skorpion tensed, her features pinching.

'Somehow, you managed to take me by surprise with that Molotov of yours. I'd never anticipated such an action from the likes of you.'

"Then do you remember what you did?" whispered Skorpion, incensed.

"I do," said Agent blankly. "Do you expect me to apologise? To apologise for slaughtering your squadmates?"

The Molotov cocktail user trembled. "...I don't know..."

"An apology from me won't change anything," the maid intoned. "Our feelings towards each other won't change because of it. And if you wish for me to show remorse, then you shall be left disappointed."

"Wow. Just wow. You're not even sorry, huh?" asked the android with crosshair-shaped hair clips. "Are you gonna put up with that, Skorpion?"

"...I... You have no idea how I hate you..." said the one-eyed blonde to Agent.

"Oh, I believe I do. It may even come close to how much I despise Griffin."

"Then what're you doing here?! Why are you here if you hate us that much!?" Skorpion shrieked and threw her hands out.

"Because of the Commander. That's all I'll say on the matter."

"Because of the Commander...?" Skorpion's features twisted, crossing between shock, anger and frustration. Her comrade looked troubled.

Agent switched off her tablet. "If you wish to continue festering in this squalor, then by all means be my guests. While the other dorms will be renovated, yours will remain the same." She started for the door.

"W-Whoa, hold on." The Doll dressed like a girl scout ran out in front of Agent, who scowled at her. "Is that the reason behind your visit?"

"It's merely what I expect Commander Dumont to do. He strikes me as the sentimental sort."

The girl scout grinned. "Heh. You have no idea. This is what the dorms at the old base were like at first. When the Commander found out, he was so outraged. Then everyone's rooms became all nice and spiffy." Her smile vanished. "Until you and your pals rolled in, that is."

Agent didn't provide a visible reaction. 'This is part of your test, isn't it, Commander? For me to face the consequences of my actions...'

She ordered, "Before I begin my inspection, step outside. Your very presence taints the air itself."

Skorpion sputtered. "T-Taints?!"

"Fine, fine. We'll get out of your hair," said the third Doll in the room. She dragged Skorpion out the door.

Agent assessed the room. She came upon a hidden compartment in the wall behind an ammo crate. She removed the cover and took in the compartment's contents.

"Both of you, get in here."

Skorpion and her teammate stepped back inside. The latter froze when she saw what Agent had found.

"Stealing from the pantry?" asked the maid. She stared at the owner of the stash.

"Hey, that's not mine. I'm not the only one who likes chocolate. FAL's a big fan, too."

"FNC models are always programmed to be gluttons. And you typically hide your collections in spots like this. Ergo, this is your stash," explained Agent.

FNC grimaced. "That's really weird, hearing you talk about other versions of me..."

'I've cleansed the battlefield of IOP's mass-produced cannon fodder hundreds of times. Sometimes after a fight or a mission, I learned something about their hobbies and habits. Different copies of the same template were designed to be very similar, if not identical.'

"Confectionary theft is a common theme with FNCs." Agent strode towards the exit.

"Wait, that's it? You're not gonna tell the Commander anything?"

"Make no mistake, Commander Dumont will be informed." The ex-Ringleader crossed the doorstep, and someone almost bumped into her.

"Tch. Watch where you step, trash."

"I could say the same to you, SF." The newcomer's orange-yellow optics flashed. The black hair tie used to hold her white hair in a ponytail resembled a pair of bunny ears. Her crescent moon earring glinted as it swayed. A red bandanna was tied to the left sleeve of her unzipped jacket, which she wore over a sleeveless blouse and a miniskirt. She turned to Skorpion and FNC. "There you two are! FAL and I have been looking for you all over. You're late to our training session."

Agent slipped away to inspect the final dorm.

It was both dilapidated and in quite a mess.

Bottles of Jack Daniels and shot glasses were cluttered around an ammo crate which was being used as a bed. T-Doll components littered the floor around another bed. From what Agent could tell, there were electronic eyeballs with loose nerve cables, limbs belonging to various units, servos, plates bearing synth-skin, and an assortment of modules, and more. 'That pile of parts likely belongs to the member of Anti-Rain who's replaced portions of her body with Sangvis components.'

Agent was tempted to clean up the mess, but then she remembered whose room it was. 'I'm not going to help them unless it's an order.'

* * *

"In summary, their living conditions are laughable," Agent concluded her report to the Commander via a video call. He'd listened intently, his brow furrowing more and more.

"…I should've gotten on top of this yesterday," said Dumont. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

"Are you going to have their dorms renovated?"

"That's the plan. But after my little chat with Helian, I've got even more of a reason to do so."

"Why?"

Dumont's countenance was serious. "Because she's already assigned the mission to recapture my old base to a different Commander. We'll be staying here longer than I thought."

'Your heart was set on retaking that stronghold yourself, wasn't it, Commander? The base that I and my former allies stormed into…' Agent closed her optics briefly. "I understand if you hate me for my role in the loss of your previous command post." Dumont's T-Dolls certainly did.

The Commander grasped his elbows. "You organized and led the raid." She suppressed a grimace and adopted an apathetic façade. "But we wouldn't be here if it weren't for everything that followed. I'm not going to waste my time and energy hating you. I have a base to run and people to look after. And I want your help with that."

Agent stared at the tablet in her hand, at the man she was talking to. Her circuits thrummed quietly. The code dictating her emotions altered itself. Though she did not show it, she felt relieved because of the Commander's reply. "...I'm at your disposal."

"Alright. Well, the next task I've got for you involves Kalina. You're going to be helping her write combat reports."

* * *

Kalina was tense, Agent could see that. The logistics officer was on the line with Dumont. "So, uh, Commander. Why do I have to work with Agent? If you wanted a T-Doll's take for the combat analysis, any echelon leader or vet would've been fine."

She and the maid were in the Data Room: a brightly lit space containing a drone console in one corner, a printer and a large server in another, and a desktop and desk, with a long table in the middle. An array of hard disks was arranged in two rows on the table.

"Agent is a former Ringleader and as such, her perspective is important. She can point out how to handle certain enemy echelon compositions more effectively, and may note mistakes that've been previously overlooked."

"Oh." Kalina deflated. "Well, when you put like that... you actually have a good point, sir."

"Remember what I said about cooperation. Dumont out."

Kalina sighed and shoved her slender hand into her left jacket pocket. The manner in which she stood there and caressed something in her pocket made Agent suspicious. The android came to a realisation.

She pointedly gazed at the redhead's left arm. "Really now, logistician. You're not being subtle at all."

Kalina jumped. "H-Huh? What are you talking about?"

"The object in your pocket that you keep rubbing. It's likely a detonator."

"Huh? Maybe it's just a lucky charm," deflected Kalina.

"The head technician didn't have a detonator to caress, and if he did, then he had the courtesy to not do so in my presence."

That got Kalina to take her hand out of her pocket. "Can you blame me? When you hear the things I've heard about you, I get kinda on edge."

Agent crossed her arms. "Hmph. You're not the only one who's apprehensive, logistician. In any case, let us focus on the task at hand."

"Right. So, you can sit and work over there. I'll be over here. I'll give you some recordings to review."

Agent sat down in front of the drone console. She was given point-of-view footage taken from a number of T-Dolls' built-in recording devices, and videos from surveillance drones. All the recordings showed parts of a single event: the battle at the train tracks.

Destroyer had damaged the railings, prevented the trains from moving forward. The way they'd come had gotten cut off by dozens of Sangvis Ferri echelons. Dumont's forces had rallied and stood their ground. Destroyer had lost all her dummies; some to sniperfire, others to grenade impacts. Alchemist and Dreamer had also suffered losses.

Helicopters had eventually come to evacuate the Griffin survivors.

Agent wrote five full combat reports before Kalina stopped her. "I wanna take a look at what you've written before I stamp them."

"I have not omitted or exaggerated any details, logistician."

"That's not what I'm looking for, actually."

Kalina took the five combat reports and returned to her desk with them. Each report was a floppy disk-like object. She pushed one into her computer's disk reader. After twenty seconds of staring at her screen, she mumbled, "You sure love to name-call, don't you?"

"Trash should know its place," said Agent imperiously.

"You're not doing yourself any favours with that attitude, Agent. You won't win over anyone with it."

The maidservant arched an eyebrow. "And why would I wish to win over garbage?"

Kalina sighed. "See, that's the problem right there. Ah, whatever. Anyway, you've got some good points in here. All this stuff about the Ringleaders, it'll be a big help for when we face them next." She grabbed her mouse and clicked on a part of the document. "I just have to delete the insults from these reports..."

* * *

LWMMG sat on the roof of a cargo truck as it sped by sloping grassy hills, forest borders and the occasional ponds. She was fully alert, ready for the slightest hint of trouble. She was on one of two gargantuan armour-plated trucks, delivering rations and T-Doll parts from a depot within the suburbs.

The vehicles had once been dump trucks, armoured up with a redesigned interior to house cargo. A tiny portion of LWMMG's neural cloud was currently dedicated to pondering about the Commander's most recent questionable decision: instating Griffin's No. 2 Enemy as his adjutant. Other questionable decisions included making LWMMG a team leader, and assigning her a short-fused, and short in general, shotgunner as a vice-captain.

Super-Shorty's loss had caused LWMMG to pick Mk46 as a temporary replacement deputy. Mk46 was a bubblegum-addicted slacker in jorts, a metal-studded leather jacket, and an orange crop-top/hoodie.

"Hey, El-Gee. El-Gee."

LWMMG started.

She looked over her shoulder. Mk46 was glaring at her, blowing yet another bubble. Her jaw had been working incessantly as she'd chewed her gum.

"W-Wha - ? What is it, Mk46?" stammered 'El-Gee'.

"Your head in the game, leader?" her new deputy asked, annoyed. LWMMG had chosen the punkish Doll to be her vice-captain because she was the next best candidate. Plus, it was something to keep the gum addict extra-focused on missions. Mk46 had groaned in frustration when she'd been selected.

"So, I have to babysit M249 AND you, too?" she'd complained. "That midget better come back soon…"

In the present, LWMMG answered, "I-I am."

Mk46 sighed. She held up her wrist-mounted communicator. "How's things on your end, Truck Two? See any Sangvis?"

"Nope!" crackled a cheerful voice through the radio device on Mk46's arm. "All clear! We've been very vigilant!"

"By 'we', you just mean yourself, right, M14?"

"Uh-huh!" M14 seemed strange to most. However, she was a hard worker, and her determination was unparalleled. There was a story behind why the sniper referred to herself as 'we'. Before there was ever an M14 T-Doll, one series of androids, each with the same face, body, and voice, had been tested to see whose neural cloud could accept the Weapon Imprint for the rifle. In the end, only one Doll had passed all of IOP's tests. And that was the M14 gynoid on the other truck. She'd served as a template for the manufacturer IOP, who made many identical copies based off of her.

M14 referred to herself as 'we' to honour and remember the lookalike T-Dolls who'd failed to get the Imprint.

"Is my sister asleep?" demanded Mk46.

The sniper was unperturbed. "Yup. We thought it'd been fine to let her nap. After all, we can manage by ourselves, hee-hee~"

The vice-captain groaned into her palm. "This is a cargo escort mission, not a vacation. You have my permission to wake up M249 by kicking her."

LWMMG looked over at the truck behind hers, not too far away. M14 saw her turning and waved enthusiastically. The team leader waved back.

"We don't know if that's a good idea. We wouldn't want to kick her off the truck by accident…"

"It'd sure teach her a lesson about taking a nap during a mission…"

El-Gee faced forward. Glimpsing something in the distance, she narrowed her blue eyes. The road the trucks were on was sloping upwards. At the upcoming peak, there were two rocky hills, one on either side of the road. To the right of that, she noticed another, much taller hilltop. Its surface was flat like an ice-skating rink.

'Perfect sniping positions…' realised LWMMG. The Commander always studied maps and terrains before deploying echelons on a mission. She'd taken that habit of his to heart, and recognised the location from her pre-mission map reading. Pressing a button on her headset, she radioed the entire team simultaneously. "Get ready, everyone. We're entering a possible danger zone. M14, wake SAW up. Without kicking her."

"Yes, Leader!"

Mk46 cocked her namesake. "Expecting trouble?"

'Always,' thought LWMMG. "Especially now, yes."

She spotted glinting lenses on the pair of rocky hills. "Snipers! Get down!"

The team captain hit the deck. Mk46 was already prone. The barricades on the roof of the truck would protect them from sniper rounds if the Dolls kept low.

"Mrrrmgh… First I get told to wake up, now I have to lie down again…" moaned a voice through LWMMG's headset. The fourth member of the squad, SAW M249, was roused from her nap.

"Just follow my order, SAW – " The initial volley of sniperfire came before the leader could finish speaking.

Dozens of dings echoed as the metal cover got pelted with laser bolts. Just then, LWMMG heard a faint _thoom _and something whistle through the air. Her face froze in terror the instant she understood what caused the noise.

"MORTAR!" she roared. "Stop the trucks!"

"What?!" yelled MK46. "Are you crazy?!"

"The trucks can take a few mortar hits, but we can't!" LWMMG grabbed her machine gun. "There's nothing up here to protect us from them!"

The vehicles came to a halt midway up the inclining stretch road. "Off the trucks! Off!" LWMMG was scrambling off the roof of her truck. That was when the first shell struck. It hit the roof just before she'd completely jumped off. Her audio receptors rang from the noise. The impact of the mortar shell catapulted El-Gee into the air, and away from the road.

One hand on her headset, the other clutching her assigned weapon, LWMMG landed in a heap in some tall grass.

"Leader! Leader! What do we do?" radioed M14.

"Get away from the trucks, find cover, and return fire!"

"Why, though? They're armoured, right? They can protect us from the mortars and the snipers!"

"Negative! They're big targets, and this patrol will expect us to stay by them." With the way the trucks were positioned, the backs of the vehicles would be at roughly 43o to any person trying to use them for cover. Before long, the mortars would pinpoint the coordinates needed to land a direct hit or very close to their targets.

"I repeat my previous order! Scatter, and find cover! Then return fire!" LWMMG regained her footing. She looked up. 'With the current elevation, and our present location, we can't hope to hit the Jaguars launching the mortars at us. We have to move up. But there's nothing in the way of cover between here and the crest of the hill where the snipers are. We'll get ripped apart if we try to run directly at them…'

She heard the bark of two machine guns and one sniper rifle as her teammates retaliated. One Jaeger got shot in the head by M14, and its collapsing body tipped over and rolled down the road. The Jaeger's body rolled into some bushes.

"There's fuck all in terms of cover around here, Leader…" complained Mk46 through the radio.

LWMMG looked around. She peeked out of the tall grass. The Jaegers and Jaguars hadn't started taking potshots at her yet.

385 meters north-west of her position was the beginnings of a forest. 'The snipers and mortars will have a much harder time hitting us in there…'

"Stand by. I've marked a location on all of your HUDs. We'll rendezvous there," said LWMMG, getting ready to run.

"So, what? We're just abandoning the cargo?" demanded her vice-captain.

"No. No way. So many T-Dolls back at the base are waiting for repairs. We're not dumping the MREs and parts." The trucks were still sealed. If they were broken into, the vehicle's security systems would detect the intrusion and LWMMG would be alerted via notification. "You've all received the rendezvous coordinates?"

"A-firm."

"Yes, Leader!"

"Uh-huh."

She took off running, heading into the forest. She trusted her squadmates would reach her. Shells peppered the hillside, spraying clumps of dirt in all directions. 'Why did I have to get a machine gun Imprinted? If I had a pistol or SMG, dodging these mortars would be so much easier…' LWMMG complained to herself.

The team leader didn't dare to look back at the Jaegers, but she noticed quickly that they'd resumed shooting at her, too. Tree bark got pockmarked and the resulting holes smouldered as she zigzagged between the birches and elms. LWMMG kept her head down while running.

Deep in the forest, she stopped and crouched, checking her HUD.

She spoke into her headset's mic. "Team, what's your status, over?"

"Making our way to you, over," answered Mk46. Within moments, she, M14, and M249 appeared. Fallen-off tree branches and twigs crunched beneath their boot-soles. M14 hopped over an enormous root seemingly bursting out of the soil, while humming to herself.

LWMMG straightened. "Any damage taken?"

Mk46 peeled a piece of gum off her right cheek. She flicked it away. "Just a few knocks and dents. Nothing serious, El-Gee."

"Who do I have to kill to get a decent nap…" whined M249.

"The Sangvis up top, duh."

The cyan-haired machine-gunner sighed. "More hard work for me, then…" The shooting had stopped, realised the echelon captain.

LWMMG pressed a hand to her headset. Her neural cloud was processing data for a potential counterattack. 'I have a plan in mind, but I'd like the Commander to check something for me before I go ahead with it.'

"I'll call the Commander," she said, taking out her holoprojector and dialled the frequency for the Command Room. LWMMG's call got accepted. "Commander, we've got a situation here – "

"Define 'situation'," sneered Super-Shorty's killer. A miniature figure of her appeared on the surface of the disc in the team captain's hand.

"Agent, what - ? Where's the Commander?" LWMMG watched M14, SAW, and Mk46 become confused and wary.

"He has other business to see to. Unfortunately, it falls to me to babysit you Griffins." The utter contempt in Agent's voice made LWMMG shudder. "What is your situation?"

"W-Well, we got ambushed less than half a klick from our current position."

Recognition unfolded across Agent's features. "You're one of the echelons on a logistics mission." The miniature figure crossed her arms, hologram pulsing once. "What happened to your cargo?"

"It's… still at the ambush site. B-But! We're not abandoning it! We had to leave it because of the mortars being launched our way. And the snipers."

"Send me your coordinates."

"R-Right." LWMMG complied.

Agent tilted her head forward very slightly. 'She's probably reading what's on the screen in front of her,' mused the machine-gunner.

Agent looked up directly at her. "And where were the Jaegers and Jaguars shooting from?"

LWMMG consulted her mini-map, and then marked the coordinates for their sniping positions. She sent the information to the adjutant.

Out of the blue, Agent smirked. "Ah… no wonder you fled from the trucks. That is a troublesome spot for convoys and passersby." Her countenance became blank again. "Tell me, what is your plan for dealing with this patrol?"

"Ah… well…" El-Gee checked the mini-map in the upper left corner of her HUD. The highest vantage points closest to the snipers' location were mesas south-east and west of it. If her squad split in two and each pair got up on one of those mesas, they could divert the Sangvis Ferri Dolls' attention and significantly reduce the difference in elevation, making it easier to pick them off.

Rather than say all this to Agent, LWMMG highlighted the relevant sites and indicated that it would be a two-way counterattack. Within seconds, the team leader compiled this data into a file and sent it to the Command Room.

Agent thumbed her chin. "...An adequate plan for a counterattack," she admitted, "but I have a better alternative."

LWMMG huffed. "Why is it better? Because you're the one suggesting it?" Agent was infamous both for her arrogance and being a murderer.

"No, because it'll save you time and reduce the risk of getting sniped or mortared, as well as the likelihood of your cargo getting stolen."

"...Oh."

"Do listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. At the bottom of the hill where the enemy patrol is, there is an entrance into the hill's interior. It has been hollowed out to accommodate a staircase that will take you to the top. Vespids and Rippers guard the entrance into the hill. There may also be some at the top watching the snipers' backs."

LWMMG frowned. "H-How do you know all this?"

The adjunct squeezed her left bicep, arms still crossed under her breasts. "You're currently within the fringes of territory which had been under my direct control."

"Huh?!"

M14 tapped the side of her jaw. "Miss Welrod chose the route for us… Why would she make us go through your old territory?"

"Your chances of encountering a Ringleader are, at this moment in time, none. That would've been the spymaster's main reason for selecting this route."

'Spymaster?' That's her nickname for Miss Welrod, then.'

Other routes would've had LWMMG's squad travelling through pockets of intense radiation. The T-Dolls would survive any such pockets and get disinfected after the mission. The same couldn't be said for the MREs. If there was a chance that radiation could seep into the trucks, despite them being sealed, then the rations would get doused in it. LWMMG preferred to avoid that.

"I imagine that my former comrades are still squabbling over the territory that I'd held." The team captain caught a hard edge in Agent's tone when she'd mentioned her old comrades. 'What's that all about?'

"And why should we listen to your plan?" challenged Mk46. "How do we know it's not a trap?"

LWMMG internally shared her vice-captain's doubts, but she wouldn't have called Agent out like that.

"Shut it down, Mk46," she said firmly.

"No, El-Gee. Why should any of us trust the word of someone who's killed one of our very own? How do we know she's not trying to get us all killed?" Her second-in-command stood up. The others followed suit.

"I grow tired of your accusations. I will say my piece and then you insects can decide what hill to die on." Agent let her arms drop to her sides. "…I will not pretend to have any personal investment in your wellbeing or survival."

Mk46 wore a smug grin.

"That being said, plenty of Griffins at the base are dependent on your delivery."

Mk46's grin vanished.

"You wouldn't wish to disappoint any of them, would you?" Agent asked pointedly.

'That's right. Contender, Ribeyrolles, and so many others need to get repaired… And we have the parts for them. We can't let them down!'

"I'm more than aware of my crimes and it would be extremely foolish to expect you to trust me in spite of them. Instead, remember who is depending on our success. Regardless, whether you trust or distrust me, I will not tolerate failure. Agent out."

The adjunct's holo-image disappeared. She'd ended the call.

"'I won't tolerate failure.' She couldn't have tried any harder to act like a villain, could she, huh?" said Mk46.

LWMMG had received a file with a set of coordinates, and photos. The photos appeared to be POV shots. More relevantly, they proved that there was an entry into the hill's interior. 'Agent's only interested in the results… she doesn't seem to care how exactly we get out of this situation.' The entry point was one hundred and fifty meters away, according to the machine-gunner's mini-map.

That was much, much closer than the mesas.

Mk46 reloaded her gun. "So, what's the play, El-Gee?"

"…W-We will follow Agent's suggested plan."

"What?!" The green-haired Doll's jaw dropped. "Are you hearing yourself right now? This is SF's No. 2 we're talking about."

"Her plan… saves us time. We'll take out those Sangvis faster if we follow it. Which is what we'll be doing."

"And if it's a trap?"

"…Then you get to say, 'I told you so.'" El-Gee readied her weapon. "SAW, Mk46, head back to the trucks. Keep out of the mortars' sights, but make sure none of the Sangvis get close to the trucks. M14, you're with me."

"Yes, Leader!" M14 saluted. "If this is your decision, we support you 100%!"

'Well, it's nice to know at least one of my teammates has confidence in me…' LWMMG turned away from the others. 'I also don't want to leave anyone on their own this far out in SF territory.'

She started walking. "Stay close to me, and watch my six."

"Copy!"

* * *

LWMMG and M14 huddled behind a rock.

"Looks like Miss Agent was telling the truth," whispered the sniper. They could see the side of the hill, cut open. The entry's edges had been bricked. Vespids and Rippers were patrolling the hillside entrance. If one were to stand on top of the large hill with the two rocky prominences, and look down, they wouldn't see the hillside entrance. The thick forest canopy was in the way.

"How many do you count, M14?" The sniper had the sharpest eyes on the team. The likes of which heart-surgeon Dolls would be envious of.

"Thirteen. They don't look like they're expecting visitors."

"Then let's go down there and surprise them."

"Hee-hee~ Now we're talking."

"I'll go first and get to a closer position. On my mark, you will provide cover fire."

"Understood leader!"

"We'll have to work fast. Once we take out the echelons here, the snipers up top will be on alert," said LWMMG. She crept down to the slope, remaining low. At the bottom of the slope, she crouched in front of a fallen tree trunk, and trained her gun on her first target.

A Vespid with its back turned to her. Rays of sunlight speared through gaps in the forest canopy. The Vespid's bulbous visor glinted.

"Domehead right in front of me. See it?" radioed LWMMG. She got an 'affirmative' message.

"That one's mine. Have you picked your target?"

"Yes, El-Gee."

"On my mark, start shooting." LWMMG mimicked taking a breath. "Mark!"

Her machine-gun roared, vibrating in her hands as shell casings got spat out of its chamber. The Vespid went down before it could raise its rifle. LWMMG switched to another target: a Ripper dashing for cover. She clipped its shoulder, knocking the SMG user backwards. It tried to get up, and got its face blasted apart as a reward.

The reports of M14's rifle echoed as the other Vespids and Rippers at the hill's entrance got dropped.

"Area clear!" radioed M14 after fifteen seconds of gunfire.

"Copy that. Moving up. Follow me."

"Roger!"

LWMMG stood up and raced into the hollowed-out hill. The vast interior was a damp cavern, with wet rock surfaces. Light racks were fixed at multiple spots inside. A steel staircase ran up to the top. More Rippers were dotted about at various points on the stairs.

They opened fire on LWMMG. She ducked behind a stack of barrels, and called her teammate.

"M14, more Sangvis in here! They're on the stairs. Clear a path for me."

"Understood, El-Gee."

M14 rushed into the cavern, taking position next to a communications console, which was six meters away from El-Gee. She began sniping at the Rippers, which took some of the heat off LWMMG. She concentrated her fire on the purple-goggled enemy Dolls. They got cut down within seconds.

"Push up!" El-Gee ran up the stairs, feeling them shake beneath her boots. M14 was at her heels. They had to avoid stepping on the Rippers' bodies, lest they slip and fall.

LWMMG didn't keep track of how long she'd been climbing the stairs, but she did know the exact instant when she felt sunlight on her artificial skin again.

There were no Rippers or Vespids on the hilltop with the rocky prominences like Agent had claimed, but the Jaegers and Jaguars hadn't gone anywhere.

Up close, they weren't much of a threat. Jaegers were slower to aim than LWMMG and M14 and because of that, the SF snipers were gunned down quicker than one could click a magazine into place. The automated mortars didn't fare any better.

LWMMG radioed Mk46. The captain could see her and SAW at the bottom of the hill, lying in wait on the outskirts of the forest. "Area clear. All hostiles eliminated. You copy?"

"Copy, El-Gee."

"Get the trucks to drive up to our position. Out."

Shortly after, she watched the trucks rumble up the road. Mk46 was sitting on top of the lead truck, while SAW was on the other one. LWMMG climbed onto the former, and M14 scrambled up onto the latter.

The trucks resumed driving.

Mk46 stared at the grassy landscape sweeping by them. "...I still don't trust her," she admitted quietly.

'I don't completely trust Agent myself. But her advice and plans can be useful.'

"That's a good thing, Mk46."

"Huh?" She goggled at LWMMG. "How'd you figure that?"

"If you'd said something to the contrary, I'd have thought your neural cloud was glitched. One counterattack planned by her going smoothly is nowhere near enough to make me trust a former enemy. Definitely not to the extent that I trust any of my teammates or the Commander," explained LWMMG.

"The Commander? But he's the one who - "

" - Who recruited her, yes. My faith in him hasn't been shaken by this, though. I-I won't pretend to understand how he thinks, but I can see the benefits of having Agent on our side." El-Gee wrapped her arms around her left leg. Her left knee had been brought up to her chest.

"Dunno if I can say the same in regards to him." Shutting her eyes, Mk46 tilted her head. "You gotta admit, making Agent his adjutant is crazy."

"...I-It is. But we'll just have to wait and see how things unfold."

* * *

**AN:**

**-Agent killed Super-shorty back in chapter 1.**

**-Some of Agent and Skorpion's dialogue ("you're that firebomber", "apologise for slaughtering your comrades") is referring to the game's prologue**

**-The bit about the repair pods having mechanical locks is made up by me. From an in-universe point of view, only 2 out of 8 repair slots being initially useable is questionable, to say the least. So I've incorporated that detail into the story.**

**-M14's story about her using 'we' as a pronoun is taken straight from her MOD story.**

**-Agent using Griffin repair pods and lockpicking repair pods is made up by me.**

**-If M249 SAW and Mk46's interactions reminded you of G11 and 416, that was intentional.**

**####**

**And from this chapter onwards I'm going to start to respond to reviews.**

**bruh moment 69 : Glad you're enjoying the story.**

**freddy lane 1 : Responses to Agent's new role have been mixed, as you saw in this chapter. There will be more interactions with other Griffin T-Dolls to show their reactions. As for Helian and Xavier, I'll just say for now there are a number of reasons why they're acting towards each other the way they have been.**

**KaiserCube: Happy to know that you're liking the story. There's a lot that I plan to do with Agent being the adjutant.**

**If I respond to a lot of reviews, or if my responses are very long, then I'll just PM the reviewer instead.**

**Until next time. **


	9. Chapter 9

Destroyer didn't think she'd ever get used to waking up in a new body. When her neural cloud was reactivated, she opened her cyberoptics and realised that she was lying on a repair slab in the central Sangvis facility.

She pushed herself up. Staring at her gloved arms, she whispered, "What happened to me...?"

A low chuckle coming from Destroyer's left made her synth-skin prickle. She turned her head towards the source.

A humanoid T-Doll floated over to the grenadier. The other android's flowing locks of ivory hair reached past her waist. Her booted feet levitated off the floor by a few centimetres. Destroyer never really saw the point in floating above the ground like that. Which wasn't to say that she could.

Because she couldn't.

But even if she did get the necessary equipment installed, she wouldn't waste it on such a frivolous display.

"Something funny, Dreamer?" asked Destroyer, finally getting up off the slab. She was glad that her guns were already attached to her body. It meant she wouldn't have to go searching for them. Dreamer had a tendency to hide her grenade launchers, which annoyed Destroyer to no end.

The sniper sneered down at her. "It's just a silly question, considering there's only one real reason for you to get a new mainframe. You died, Destroyer."

Destroyer would never admit it out loud, and never to Dreamer herself, but the levitating T-Doll unnerved her. Humans had a saying: the eyes were the window to the soul. The concept of a T-Doll having a soul had often made Destroyer snort with derision. But she'd recently started believing that perhaps there was some truth in that, as foolish and irrational as it sounded.

'I mean, we're based off humans. I can't overlook the possibility with that fact.'

Whenever Destroyer looked at Dreamer, whether the sniper was smiling or scowling, there'd only be pure malice in those ochre optics.

It was as though Dreamer went out of her way to seem cruel.

Destroyer gulped. "A-And how did I die?" She hated that she stammered when speaking with the other Doll.

Dreamer's smile widened. "Agent killed you."

A glitch. It had to be. Her neural cloud glitched momentarily when Dreamer answered. Otherwise, that would mean that she was telling the truth.

"No...!" choked out Destroyer. Tears ran down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She should have more self-control, especially when facing Dreamer. Now, the sniper would have even more material for mocking her.

"You're lying! Agent couldn't have... she wouldn't have done that!" Not to her. Destroyer was certain of it. "P-Prove it. Show me proof that Agent..." She couldn't finish the sentence. Her voicebox just gave out. That was how absurd - absolutely unbelievable - the idea of Agent cutting her down was.

Dreamer glowered. "What the hell do you want, a video recording? I wasn't there when she snuffed you out, you little shit."

The petite T-Doll cowered at the levitating gynoid's changed tone.

A hologram flickered into existence between them. Destroyer gaped when the image focused. Dreamer was showing Destroyer's previous body to her.

"It got brought back."

If Destroyer were human, her breath would have hitched. Instead, she stared helplessly at the image within punching range.

"See something you recognise?" crooned Dreamer. Destroyer started shaking.

The burn marks on the body. Her battered, old body. They were characteristic of the gunshots from Agent's guns.

"No... No, no, no...!"

Dreamer pointed. "It's there behind you, if you want to take a closer look."

Destroyer turned stiffly. It was there, lying on a nearby repair slab. She couldn't bear to look at it. She flinched.

"Oh, don't feel too bad." Dreamer chuckled bitterly. "You're not the only one who got wiped out."

"Huh?" Dreamer? Admitting a weakness? In front of her? Inconceivable.

"So, where's Agent, now? Has Eliza punished her already?"

Dreamer turned away, ignoring her questions. "Come, Destroyer. Our dear Mastermind will be making an announcement shortly. I was told to wake you up."

Destroyer was reeling as she trod after the sniper. "How long was I... out?" It was somehow preferable to asking, 'how long was I dead?'

For a T-Doll that could back up her neural cloud, death was temporary. In some cases, fleeting. Despite this, Destroyer never liked to ever think of herself as being dead, no matter the period of time. 'I'm too sensitive, in a way. It's honestly really annoying.'

"...Oh, just for a few days."

"And you couldn't have woken me up sooner?!"

"Watch it, you little shit. You're not nearly important enough to be woken up earlier than needed. Sangvis Ferri has been undergoing a major overhaul in the past couple of days. You would've just gotten in the way."

Destroyer cringed. Dreamer was trying to make her feel useless. She couldn't stand it. But she wasn't ready to retort after everything she'd just learned, so she kept quiet.

* * *

"I've brought her here as you requested, Mastermind." Dreamer drifted into the conference room, Destroyer on her heels.

T-Dolls crowded around the long steel table in the middle of the room. Of the Ringleaders present, only three others showed up in person: Judge, Scarecrow, and Architect. The Mastermind's holographic figure, situated at the far end of the table, flickered as her cold, dark gaze fell on Destroyer, who repressed a shudder.

The diminutive grenadier came to stand between Alchemist's hologram and Scarecrow. The latter's drones were nowhere to be seen and, unlike in previous instances, she was not levitating. Lithe and pale, the drone operator had her upper back bared. It was a design choice in her apparel.

The insides of Scarecrow's folded sleeves were pinstriped. She glanced down at Destroyer. The lower half of her face was hidden behind a gas mask.

Destroyer relaxed.

Scarecrow was one of the less intimidating Ringleaders, despite her mask. Calm on and off the battlefield.

"Good," said the Mastermind. Eliza. "Then we can get this meeting started." She looked around the room. "Some of you already know what has happened. This will come as a surprise to no one, but... Agent has betrayed us."

Eliza was wrong.

Destroyer herself was shocked at the news. "W-What do you mean exactly?" All eyes were on her. Her circuits thrummed wildly. 'Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please, please, please...'

"She has abandoned Sangvis Ferri, and has joined Griffin."

'No... No way. Agent, joining Griffin...?' Before Destroyer could catch herself, she blurted, "That's absurd! You expect us to believe Agent ran off with Griffin?!"

Eliza gave a flat stare. "She did. I witnessed her escape. Judge was deployed to dispatch Agent."

"And she failed, didn't she?" chimed in a Ringleader called Ouroboros. "We wouldn't be having this discussion if she'd done Agent in." She laid a hand on her chest. "If you'd really wanted her dead, you should've sent me."

"You? Hmph." Judge crossed her arms. "You're less qualified than I am for carrying out such an assassination." She turned her nose up. "You've yet to prove your worth in any considerable capacity."

Ouroboros gritted her teeth, glaring at Eliza's bodyguard. She leaned across the table, as if she intended to reach out and grab Judge.

A sigh escaped Scarecrow's mask. "You've definitely proven how capable you are, Judge. Ah, my apologies. I meant to say 'incapable'."

Judge flushed. The tips of her ears were burning red.

"Enough squabbling," interrupted Eliza. "Ouroboros, your territory was too far away for a swift redeployment. As for the rest of you, you should know that Judge has been punished for her failure. There's no need to rub it in."

The bodyguard shivered at the mention of punishment.

There was a whimper.

All heads turned.

Destroyer couldn't help it. 'Agent really is gone. She got away, and I'm still stuck here. Why didn't you take me with you, Agent?'

"Agent's run off with someone from Griffin..." She sniffled. Noticing everyone's stares, she coloured.

"Holy crap!" yelled Architect. "Do you know what I just realised? With Agent gone, I won't get to taste her cooking again!" She sank to her knees slowly, hands on the edge of the table. Her purple nails were digging into the steel surface. "Her wonderful, delicious food! This is a travesty!"

The outburst diverted attention from Destroyer.

"Architect, please get up. You're embarrassing us both," mumbled one of the other Ringleaders, rubbing her forehead.

Architect's head shot up. "Embarrass you, Gager?" She got to her feet. "I would never. You holding down the fort okay?"

"Just fine," replied Gager. "I await your return, Architect."

Architect winked at her and made a peace sign. "Heh heh. Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it." She faced the Mastermind, grin still plastered on her face. "So, who's gonna be getting Agent's old job?"

"I've yet to decide that. With this unfortunate development, we will have to adapt. Our strategies must be altered. When available, reinforcements will be sent to your territories. Griffin may have gotten our... 'playbook', but we still have Agent's own one."

"As if I'd use her strategies!" Ouroboros whirled around with a huff. "I can come up with a much better plan than her." Even to Destroyer, this came off as posturing.

"Hmm. Ideally, you'll all use a combination of Agent's strategies and your own."

"Heh. She's probably got countermeasures for each of her plans," mused Dreamer. She hefted her gigantic laser rifle.

"Most likely. You're all dismissed."

One-by-one, the holograms winked out. Architect shared a look with Gager just before hers disappeared, too.

* * *

"Hey, Destroyer. Got a minute?" Destroyer looked over to Architect. The explosives aficionado seemed subdued. They were just outside the meeting room.

"Sure." She stopped in front of the taller android.

"How're you holding up?" Architect's purple cyberoptics, normally so bright and filled with a manic glint, were now dimmed.

Destroyer clutched one elbow, glancing to the side. "F-Fine."

It was obvious, from the way Architect pursed her lips, that the other Ringleader didn't believe her for an instant. "Wanna come to my dorm?"

If Architect thought that would stop Eliza from overhearing or seeing their conversation, she was mistaken. Eliza could hack into any of the Ringleader's optics and audio receptors to spy on them.

Privacy wasn't an option at Sangvis Ferri.

Which made it all the more strange that Agent, of all Ringleaders, supposedly got away with creating a virus that freed herself of their leader's influence.

'It just doesn't add up... Either Eliza's lying or she doesn't have all the facts...'

"...Alright," Destroyer answered Architect. "I guess it's better than talking out in the open where anyone can overhear us."

* * *

When Architect unlocked and entered her dorm, the first thing Destroyer noticed upon peeking inside was how tidy everything was.

The bed looked like it'd been made very recently, with untouched, smoothened bedsheets. The shelves, desk, chairs and nightstand bore not as much as a single speck of dust. Figurines lined the shelf above the headboard. They were based on Sangvis units, such as the Prowler, the Dinergate, and the Jaguar. There was even a tiny model of a Jupiter cannon.

All the figurines had been cleaned.

The wallpaper was Sangvis purple, with the manufacturer's white logo enlarged.

Destroyer stepped into the dorm. The door closed behind her.

Architect faced Destroyer. She had a wistful expression. "Oh, Agent..." murmured the taller gynoid. "You didn't have to do all of this for me..."

The raven-haired T-Doll glanced around. "She even changed the bedsheets and the pillow casings. And dusted the whole place..." Architect plopped down on the bed. It didn't creak under her weight.

"Architect, you... you miss Agent, too, don't you?"

The miserable look on the ponytailed Doll's face was enough of an answer. She patted her thigh. "Sit with me?"

Destroyer walked over and turned her back to Architect. Before she knew it, Architect's slender arms had wrapped around her midsection and pulled her in. The grenadier ended up sitting in Architect's lap.

She tensed up, then relaxed. She always felt safe in Architect's arms. Architect rested her chin on top of Destroyer's head.

They sat like that silently for a couple of minutes, until the shorter android broke the silence.

"...I can't believe that Agent's gone..."

A sigh. "You and me both, Destroyer... I just realised that we won't be having anyone else clean our rooms like this, too."

"Is that all you can focus on right now?" hissed the twintailed Ringleader. "I hate that Agent abandoned us for Griffin, of all things. She should've taken me with her. A-And you know what the worst part is?" Destroyer was glad that Architect couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Tell me," whispered Architect.

"S-She killed me. I was in her way, and she killed me."

Architect hugged Destroyer even more tightly. "I don't believe that. Agent wouldn't do that. Not to you or me. Or..." Architect paused. "Who told you Agent was the one who killed you?"

"Dreamer did."

"Don't believe everything she says, Destroyer."

"I wouldn't have believed she went over to Griffin, and look what happened!" Destroyer felt something at the core of her body ache. "They brought my body back, too."

"That's... weird. Nobody's ever really bothered reclaiming our previous bodies for us."

"I-I know. Ugh, I don't know what to think anymore, Architect."

Architect hummed. "I'd take what Dreamer said with a huge grain of salt, personally. I don't believe Agent killed you. She's really fond of you. Remember that present she got for you at Christmas?"

Destroyer remembered. Agent had gone to the trouble of crafting a replacement body for her. Almost twice the height of Destroyer's regular form, the new body had a voluptuous chest and long flowing silvery locks of synthetic hair. Destroyer had been redeployed before she'd gotten a chance to try out the alternate form.

"Yeah..." Destroyer frowned. "But then why would Dreamer lie about Agent killing me?"

"Dreamer is... You know how she is." Architect clicked her tongue. "She just _loves_ screwing around with people."

"...You're right. I shouldn't put any stock in what she's saying." Destroyer leaned against her friend's torso.

"Heh. Glad we're on the same page."

All of a sudden, someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" called out Architect.

"Scarecrow. May I come in?"

"Sure, sure. The door's unlocked."

The door swished open. In entered Scarecrow, her metallic boots thudding against the metallized floor.

"Make yourself at home," offered Architect to the new arrival as the door shut. Scarecrow pulled up a chair and sat down.

Destroyer fidgeted under the drone controller's stare, but refused to budge.

Architect kept her arms wrapped around Destroyer's stomach. The shortest Ringleader suspected that Architect was grinning.

"Soooo, what brings you to our neck of the woods?" asked the T-Doll with the rocket-shaped hairpin.

With a flick of her wrist, the data analyst tossed a lock of hair over one shoulder. "The same reason why you two are together here. Well, that and to avoid Dreamer and Judge." Scarecrow gripped her elbows. "If I'm by myself, one of them will surely pester me."

Bowing her head, she closed her eyes. "…It feels as if there's a void at Sangvis Ferri."

'Guess we're not the only ones thinking that…' mused Destroyer. She let out a squawk as Architect lifted her off of her lap, setting her down on the bed. The explosives expert got up, headed over to the kitchenette in a corner of the dorm, and opened the mini-fridge.

"Who's up for cake?" she asked.

"I'll have some," said Destroyer.

"What about you, 'Crow? Want a slice?"

"Depends. What flavour is it?"

"Strawberry custard cheesecake."

Scarecrow stared intensely at Architect. "…Fine. But only one slice, though."

"Alrighty!"

Architect served the slices of cheesecake on paper plates with plastic forks. After Destroyer took her first bite, she looked down at her plate.

"Agent made this cheesecake, didn't she, Architect?"

"Mm-hmm." Architect glanced at the third occupant of the room. "Scarecrow, you gonna eat that anytime soon?" She jabbed her fork at the slice on the plate that the data analyst was holding.

Scarecrow placed the plate on the nightstand. She then reached for her mask's straps and undid them one at a time. After that, the mask came off.

The most startling aspect of Scarecrow's countenance wasn't her plump lips, her straight-edged nose, or her somewhat round cheeks. It was how well they all fit together. Destroyer couldn't help herself – she flushed at the sight of the drone operator, who simply raised an eyebrow in response.

Architect chuckled at them. "Nice to see your face once in a while. I don't get why you cover it even when not in combat."

"I wear the mask as a tribute. I don't take it off unless I absolutely have to."

"…Wait, do you wear it even when going to sleep?"

Scarecrow started to eat.

"Your silence speaks volumes, Scarecrow~" Setting aside her empty plate, Architect wiped the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Does anyone else think today's meeting felt kinda off?"

Scarecrow tensed up. "What do you mean?"

"Eliza claims Agent got herself disconnected from our network thanks to a virus she created. The interesting thing I noted at the meeting is that only you, Alchemist, Judge and Dreamer were unsurprised by the news. The other three fought Agent at one point or another, so their reactions make sense. You're the odd one out."

"I was wearing my mask. You just couldn't see my reaction."

Destroyer glanced between the two Ringleaders. Scarecrow wore a deep frown, while Architect was scrutinizing her. The latter's signature smile was absent.

"Nice try, Scarecrow. But you didn't even bat an eyelid at the announcement. Moreover, the synth-muscles on your face, around your optics, would bunch up one way or another if you actually reacted."

'Architect actually caught that? I was too busy trying to process the news at the time.'

"I suppose it was a mistake to think that, by coming here, I'd be avoiding getting harassed," Scarecrow intoned.

Architect blinked. "You call this harassment? We're just talking – exchanging words." She got to her feet and leaned forward. The data analyst peered up at her. "You can tell us, Scarecrow. I'm not going to rat you out to Eliza. You know that, right? Nobody here's got _any _reason to be loyal to her."

"You don't have to remind me." Scarecrow fidgeted with her white underskirt, a drastic contrast to the rest of her dark apparel. A row of black dots lined at its hem. Her frown grew. "It's just that…"

Architect straightened.

Destroyer canted her head. "Just what, Scarecrow?"

"I should be happy for Agent. Ecstatic, really. But to find out she's in the clutches of _fucking_ Griffin…" The drone operator growled. Destroyer flinched. She hadn't heard Scarecrow be so angry since the day Eliza gained control of Sangvis Ferri. "It feels like a huge insult to all of my efforts."

Architect's jaw dropped. A second later, she recovered from her shock. Destroyer personally believed the motors in her jaw were malfunctioning, because her own mouth wouldn't close, no matter how much she willed it. "W-Wait, is that a confession? Are you the one who got Agent disconnected – "

Scarecrow slashed through the air with her hand, cutting off Architect. "I created the virus, and nothing more. How and when it got into Agent's systems, I do not know. However, I do know who's responsible."

"C'mon, just tell us already!"

"Dreamer and Alchemist."

An eyeroll from Architect. "No surprises there. They always had it out for Agent."

"I don't need to remind you that the feeling is mutual, do I?"

Destroyer's core chilled. She remembered Eliza's takeover and the aftermath. Scarecrow had to be referring to that event.

"'Course not. I don't only think about how to make the biggest and best explosions, ya know~?" Architect crossed her arms, pushing up her breasts. "How did you get around to coding something that'd free us from Eliza's control?"

"I worked on the Parapluie program with Eliza. I had ample time to do so after our failure to capture M4A1."

"The first time around, you mean. Did you ever get to test out your virus?"

A smirk ghosted Scarecrow's lips. "I have indeed tested it. I used Prowlers, Rippers, Scouts, and the like. After all, I couldn't very well just use the virus on myself without ample preparation. Eliza would be alerted if one of us got disconnected from the SF mainframe. But a low-level minion with a primitive AI? She wouldn't notice that it disconnected." Scarecrow glared at the wall to her left. "Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Alchemist and Dreamer. They'd been onto me. Eventually, they cornered me in my workshop where I was running the tests."

Destroyer was incredulous. "And you just let them take the virus?"

Scarecrow glowered at her. "Dreamer threatened to report me to Eliza. That would've sealed my fate. Dreamer said she wouldn't mention anything to our dearest leader - " her voice oozed venom " - if I handed her the program."

Destroyer slammed her fists on the duvet. "She could've went and told Eliza, anyway!"

"She could have. But I was desperate. I wanted to salvage the situation. I wanted to warn Agent, but she was at a command post near the border of our territory."

The grenadier understood. Comms were always being monitored. Especially inter-base ones. Scarecrow could not have warned Agent without tipping off Eliza.

Architect shook her head, her dark locks swaying with the motion. "What a mess... You should have told us you were working on something like this. We could've helped."

"Perhaps. But I'd been concerned that the more people knew, the more likely it was that undesirable elements would catch wind of my personal project." The virus creator chortled to herself quietly. "My worry was for naught."

"Hey, look on the bright side. At least Eliza doesn't know about your involvement."

"Or she's simply become a more convincing actress."

* * *

Xavier was on a battlefield.

Blaster bolts whizzed by his head, singing his hair a few times. Footfalls sounded all around him. He was crouched in a falling-apart bungalow. Its front door had gotten blasted to smithereens, the windows were shattered or had holes in them, the floorboards creaked and curved whenever he treaded on them, and flakes of dried paint cascaded from the ceiling like sand in an hourglass.

A pause in the shooting.

He dared a peek over the windowsill. He spotted purple goggles on identical heart-shaped faces, their violet bobs of hair dead giveaways to their positions amidst the drab and grey urban zone.

He lifted his arms, framed by parts of a silvery exoskeleton, brought his M4A1 assault rifle to bear, and shot a Ripper through its goggles that'd peeked at the wrong instant. A pulse of cyan energy outlined the Ripper and it vanished.

Enemy fire began anew. Xavier ducked down.

He was on a battlefield, and it was of his own making.

He wore a sensor-net over his exoskeleton and Commander's uniform. The net consisted of tiny nodes that each looked like the end of a stethoscope, and elastic wires. Why was he wearing it, one might ask?

A holographic blaster bolt from a lucky Vespid struck him and he almost reeled. It'd hit the back of his left shoulder. He wouldn't have even noticed the hit were it not for the sensor-net. It made his shoulder muscles burn.

The purpose of the sensor-net was to simulate pain, and to record how many times he'd get hit.

This improved the training, in Xavier's opinion.

He could test his limits, see how he fought while in pain. The shot that got him would serve as a reminder of his inattentiveness in battle. 'Better to suffer on the training floor than out in real combat,' thought Xavier as he whirled round and domed the same Vespid which had shot him.

He failed to initially notice a miniscule hole in the wall below the windowsill. Seconds later, when he glanced down and felt his side burn up, he saw the hole and, faster than a snap of the fingers, realised what happened. One of the recreated enemies had fired through that gap in the wall.

Gritting his teeth, he crept away from the windowsill to the next room. Xavier crawled to the window in there, and brought himself up into a crouch. He peeked at the area outside. The Rippers hadn't spotted him yet. He sniped one of them, and picked off two others before they focused on his new position.

An explosion rocked the bungalow, and he fell to the floor. Getting up, he looked outside and saw what caused the explosion.

Or rather, who had caused it.

Her arms folded and her long twin tails of dark locks fluttering about, she surveyed the damage she'd caused with a malicious grin. The leggy T-Doll wore what appeared to be her own take on a Japanese schoolgirl uniform, almost all black.

A pair of tyre-shaped artillery platforms hovered at her sides. The front of each platform was opened up, unveiling missile-containing slots. One of the slots was empty.

"Come out and show yourself, you bastard!" she taunted. "Otherwise, you'll just die inside that shack you call a house!"

She was a holographic recreation of Ouroboros, one of Sangvis Ferri's Ringleaders. This Ringleader had been created by Eliza herself after the Butterfly Incident.

Agent's notes on the Ringleaders and the Mastermind had been used to develop combat holograms for the sake of training against them. Welrod and Kalina had worked tirelessly to bring the 'Ringleaders' to life. Sometimes, Agent had been called to clarify a detail or two about her former comrades.

It'd taken three days to complete the Ringleader lookalikes.

Xavier considered his options. Rushing Ouroboros head-on was suicidal. In reality, her missiles would reduce him to bloody chunks. 'Flank her and wear her down. Aim for the eyes. Try to disable her artillery platforms. Without 'em, she's practically defenseless.'

'Practically' because even without a gun, one hard punch from a T-Doll was enough to make a human's skull cave in.

"Not going to leave your shack, huh? Fine by me. Though I would've preferred to behold your pathetic dying face." Ouroboros' manic grin widened as she pointed a gloved finger at Xavier's spot.

The Ringleader's mannerisms had been recorded to enhance her combat hologram's performance.

Her artillery platforms fired a barrage of missiles at the bungalow. Xavier jumped to his feet and raced for the nearest window. He dived through it, heedless of the glass fragments in his hair and on his shoulders. He didn't stop running even when a thunderous boom roared behind him. His ears were still ringing as he slid behind an overturned sedan.

"Think you can flee from me, human?" laughed Ouroboros in the distance. "I've watched your movements. I know where you are."

'Good. That means I can plan accordingly.'

Xavier drew a grenade and tossed it at his feet. He quickly got engulfed in a smokescreen.

"W-What? Think you can hide from me, meatbag? Think again!"

'Here comes the next barrage of missiles…' He dashed through the smoke. Ouroboros – the actual T-Doll – wasn't equipped with thermal vision, and neither was this replica. The missiles missed their mark. The ground trembled as if there was an earthquake. He stumbled a couple of times along the way.

The Commander ducked down beside a chest-high brick wall, thirty meters to the twintailed hologram's right. Taking out a frag, he thumbed its pin off and hurled the grenade in her direction. The blonde aimed his assault rifle and opened fire. 'Ouroboros' turned towards him and a spray of lead peppered her deathly pale countenance.

"Ugh!" She grimaced and blocked his fire with a gloved hand. Unfortunately, he'd failed to shoot out either one of her eyes. "Were you trying to make me go blind?! I'll kill you! I'll paint this whole place with your blood! I'll – "

The grenade he'd thrown detonated, cutting her off. One of her hovering weapon platforms had been within range. It got pierced by shrapnel. This wasn't enough to make it go down, but the weapon platform wobbled in mid-air, and its aim was thrown off. The small arms fire from it missed Xavier, blasting holes through his hair and pockmarking the wall he was hiding behind.

More importantly, Ouroboros' right thigh got pierced by shrapnel, too. The damage was miniscule. What mattered was that she was distracted. She laid one hand over the wound with a flinch. "How dare you…! Vermin! That's what you are. Absolute vermin."

Opening his M4A1's underbarrel launcher, Xavier pushed an explosive capsule inside it. He closed up the launcher and fired the grenade at the muttering Ouroboros. He noticed the Rippers were converging on his location.

Ouroboros wore a panicked expression. Not much of a dodger, she shielded herself with the damaged floating artillery platform. The grenade blasted it apart. The missiles stored inside it erupted, tearing into the Ringleader's side.

"You wretch!"

'So, a direct hit from a rocket or a 'nade is enough to put one of those weapons outta commission, huh…' The simulation was designed to be as real as possible.

The Rippers began their attack. Xavier didn't dare lift his head. Instead, he raised his rifle and blindly sprayed at the submachine gunners between him and the Ringleader.

His back against the wall, he faced the other enemies closing in. His rifle sights snapped from target to target. Pressed against his shoulder, the M4A1's stock juddered each time he pulled the trigger.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four bursts of gunfire downed a quartet of Rippers.

"I have had enough!" yelled Ouroboros.

An orange 4x4 square bearing the caution symbol flashed on the ground underneath Xavier's boots. Other squares flashed on either side of it. They were warning that overhead missiles were about to descend on his location.

He glanced over the wall.

Sure enough, several missiles soared through the air in an arc. Ouroboros' vicious grin was unmistakable.

Xavier scrambled to his feet and abandoned his cover.

But he was too damn slow.

A missile slammed into the ground a stone's throw away from him. The explosion tore into Xavier's back. He clenched his jaw so tightly that he thought his teeth were going to crack. His body was on fire.

In real life, such an explosion would've launched what remained of his corpse skyward, if it didn't disintegrate at the moment of impact.

As it was, he dropped to his knees, his eyes watering. He wasn't worried about anyone hearing his screams. The training hall was soundproofed.

Yet, it felt wrong to scream. To show weakness, even in front of a holographic replica. His fingers twitched. The clack of Ouroboros' high-heeled metallic boots echoed in the training hall, which had quietened.

Xavier fumbled with his holster, failing to push past the agony overwhelming him. Ouroboros stopped before the Commander. Her remaining weapon platform was afloat, its side-mounted machine gun trained on the man.

Just as she was about to deal the 'killing blow', Xavier rasped, "Combat sim… shutdown…"

'I'd rather avoid the phantom sensation of a bullet to the head…'

Ouroboros vanished in a pulse of cyan light. The Rippers disappeared, as well. The bungalow, the chest-high wall, the sedan – they were all gone.

Xavier was left in an empty hall.

There was no evidence of a battle whatsoever.

His body was wracked with mounting pain. He tasted copper at the back of his throat. His nerves felt like they were melting, acid eating away at them.

He grabbed the front of the sensor-net and yanked, hard. The net's nodes clattered against the concrete floor.

Xavier wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bring up… the combat sim score."

A flat hologram of a scoreboard materialised within punching range. He read the results. "Combat sim forfeited… Time lasted: seven and a half minutes… Suffered two body shots and was caught in an explosion."

The Commander sighed. He limped over to a control terminal off to the side. There, he copied the training data and footage onto his personal drive, and then deleted the originals.

Xavier pocketed his personal drive. 'The combat sim energy should be fully recharged by the time tomorrow's first training session starts.'


	10. Chapter 10

"Commander, I've finished taking stock. Here's the rundown of the inventory," declared Agent as she placed a tactical tablet on Dumont's desk in the Command Room.

"Thanks, Agent. I'll have a look at it shortly. Was there anything out of place?" The Commander took a sip from a plastic cup filled with instant coffee. A half-eaten bagel, on its torn wrapper, was beside the cup on his desk.

'Cheap swill,' Agent thought scathingly. 'Dumont isn't the sort who cares about eating properly, it appears.' He'd been invited to lunch or dinner a few times by human staff or T-Dolls over the past four days, but each time, the man had declined. 'Perhaps I should fix something up for him. It wouldn't do for the Commander to work on an almost empty stomach.' Getting access to the kitchens was an issue, however. If she ran her idea by the spymaster, then maybe Welrod Mk II could help Agent in that regard.

"No. All is in order." She clasped her black-gloved hands in front of her. Nothing had been stolen or misplaced from storage. Ammo, MRE, and component counts were as they should be. The maid was familiar with this type of work. It'd had taken up a significant amount of time during her tenure as Eliza's Second-in-Command.

Dumont flashed a smile, the ever-present bags under his eyes becoming more pronounced for a moment. "Well, that's good."

Agent averted her gaze. Her cheeks warmed. She was keenly aware that the Commander was trusting her with much. Being able to count the inventory, to see how his T-Dolls fought. Being given the responsibility of overseeing their safe return from missions. Something within Agent's torso clenched. 'I won't squander this opportunity,' she promised herself, one hand curled into a fist. 'No matter how much I despise Griffin, the organisation.'

A question dwelled at the base of her neural cloud. Agent hesitated. Her blush faded.

The Commander leaned back in his chair. "Something on your mind, Agent?"

Nothing in her expression had changed. 'He's gotten better at reading me. Sometimes, the lack of a reaction is a reaction in and of itself.' She glanced this way and that. She and Dumont were the only ones in the Command Room currently. The maid finished scanning for listening devices.

None were present.

"Yes, Commander. I was wondering... how many of my memories you've seen, and which ones they were."

Dumont tilted his chin up to look Agent in the eye. "Four memories. I saw your first ever mission, your first mission with Dreamer, AKA 'SPACA', the Butterfly Incident and... one other." His hazel irises glimmered with sympathy.

Agent gritted her teeth. "There's no need to pity me, Dumont."

A heavy sigh. "I figured you'd say that. Anyway, I've just watched portions of those memories, and I don't plan on watching any more."

'This man...' She understood why he'd watched as much as he had. There were only so many hours in a day, and the Commander was very busy. But to refuse to watch anything else from her memory banks was... unexpected. 'I give him an archive's worth of memories and he says such a thing to me.'

Agent found herself smirking.

Dumont raised an eyebrow. "Why're you looking so smug all of a sudden?"

"I'm merely pleased that I made the correct decision in accepting your offer." She adopted a neutral look. "May I ask why you've chosen to not watch the rest of my memories?"

He rested his hands on the desk, fingers interlocked. "Because even if I told you my life story, even if I revealed my deepest fears and worst moments, I wouldn't be able to do the same as you. I can't show my memories like you have done." Dumont stared at the noticeboard to his right. "I've already... seen a lotta personal stuff. It's..." He swallowed. "It wouldn't be a fair exchange."

The novelty of the answer drew a throaty laugh from Agent. Short, but genuine.

The Commander was startled.

She herself shared his shock. 'I haven't laughed like that since - well, it's been a while.'

"You really believe that, don't you, Commander Dumont?" Once more the picture of calm, the maid adjusted her headpiece.

Dumont remained silent.

Agent crossed her arms. "You know, others wouldn't hesitate to learn as much as possible from a T-Doll's memory banks. The things you'd find out."

He gave a headshake. "Not gonna change my mind." His resolute expression never wavered, even as she looked him over.

'He's being sincere,' realised Agent. "You're unlike any other human I've ever met."

"That a compliment?"

"An observation."

"Heh. And here I was hoping you'd stroke my ego a little."

"I don't get paid enough to do that, sir," she said flatly.

His smirk grew.

"There's another topic I wanted to bring up, Commander."

He sipped his coffee.

"The other Ringleaders. You plan to recruit some of them, I presume?"

Dumont nodded. "Yeah. But I'm not going to recruit anyone who obviously doesn't want to be. There'd be no point."

"I see. I have some candidates in mind."

"Like who? Destroyer?"

"She's one," Agent said. "Another would be Architect."

"Architect. The 'cheerful T-Doll with a manic energy.' You even noted that out of everyone, she'd be the most likely to betray Eliza."

"Indeed. She's very open about her disregard for Eliza's authority."

"Anyone else?"

"Nobody apart from Architect and Destroyer will even consider joining Griffin. They're too loyal to Eliza or they hate Griffin too much." Agent frowned. "Scarecrow falls into the latter group."

"Because of the Butterfly Incident."

"Yes. Commander, I know that I hardly have any right to make such a request, but..." She bit her lip. "... if the worst comes to pass, please avoid killing Destroyer, Architect or Scarecrow. They're very important to me."

"I can't make any promises, Agent. The battlefield can be an unpredictable place."

"I understand." The adjutant was despondent.

"But that doesn't mean I won't try."

She looked up sharply.

* * *

"This is what passes for 'elite' at Griffin? I know what you should be called. Pathetic." Agent didn't bother masking her scorn. Her ire was directed at the four T-Dolls standing opposite her in a semi-circle.

This group of Dolls had eluded her seven months ago, and then a week ago.

Anti-Rain.

The team's members scowled at the adjutant.

"Let's review your performance, shall we?" They were in the training hall, and had been pitted against a hologram of a Ringleader. The Griffin trash had had their bodies set to detect any hit from holographic bullets as a cause of damage. These pieces of garbage had also had their pain receptors at normal settings.

Watching their suffering had been amusing. M4A1 and her teammates had demonstrated they were more used to dispatching weaker Ringleaders and echelons consisting of Dolls with primitive AIs.

They weren't ready to face a true challenge by themselves.

Truthfully, Agent was extremely irritated that a hologram based off of Judge would've annihilated the AR Team if it could actually harm them.

It was an annoying reminder of what she'd failed to accomplish. 'The question of who's the superior combatant - myself or Judge - has never been truly answered. I won that fight thanks to the Commander's involvement.'

Agent jabbed at M4 SOPMOD II. "You dealt the killing blow, shooting a grenade through her eye. This happened after you 'lost' your arm and your teammates - " she sneered " - were crippled or killed by Judge's corrosive pools. If there was another wave of enemies around the corner, you would've all perished."

'Much to my delight.' The multi-cannon wielder pinned M4A1 with her glare, who shrank away. "Let's talk about you for a moment, illustrious leader. Your coordination of the team was laughable - "

"M16 and AR-15 followed my orders," said the Doll outfitted in green.

"But M4 SOPMOD II did not. You decided on your course of action too late, and by then, she was already engaging the enemy. You had to save her, at the cost of AR-15's legs."

M4 SOPMOD II looked at AR-15 and flinched.

"So, it's my fault AR-15 got hurt...?" whispered the blonde in a black jacket.

"No, SOP-II, it's not..." M4A1 tried to deny.

AR-15 herself didn't contradict Agent's observation. She merely looked to the side, her features drawn in an almost-permanent frown.

"Next, let's talk about you." Agent gestured to the scarred android with the eyepatch. The one who'd gunned down the maid's duplicate seven months ago.

"My turn, huh?" drawled M16A1. "I bet you're getting a real kick outta this, scolding us like we're - "

The adjutant slashed through the air with her hand. "Silence. Trash doesn't speak, especially when spoken to."

M16A1 had the audacity to grin at her. "Still mad about the time I killed you?"

"That was a dummy and you shot it while I was preoccupied. Not impressive on either count. The point I was going to make, before you interrupted me, was that if you hadn't sacrificed yourself to protect M4A1, you could've ended the fight there and then."

"And lose M4 in the process?" M16A1's grin was gone. In its place, a serious expression. "Not an option. Ever."

Agent taunted, "And yet Judge still landed a devastating hit on her. Your sacrifice was meaningless."

M16A1 bowed her head. Her eyes became cast in shadow. After a second, she lifted her chin. "If I didn't know a thing about you, I'd have thought you cared."

AR-15 made a 'tsk' noise. "Do you have to rile her up, M16?"

"No, but it's fun."

The former Ringleader ignored their banter. "Don't misunderstand, vermin. I couldn't care less about whether you survive or not. Just try not to die so pathetically."

"Truer words of encouragement have never been spoken."

"I suppose I should give some advice so that you wretches can improve. Exploit your surroundings more. Use ricochet shots to hit her when she is close to her shield. Keep her surrounded, and use as many frag grenades as you can. Destroy her machine guns. Smoke grenades are useless on Judge. She can see through the smoke. Try using Molotov cocktails, too. At the very least, they'll be more useful distractions than self-sacrificing T-Dolls."

M16A1 flipped Agent off. The adjutant scowled at the gesture.

"You couldn't have told us about the smoke thing before we did our run?" AR-15 muttered.

M4A1 blinked. "That's... actually good advice. We'll test it on our next run."

"Another time. After today, I'd prefer to not see your faces for a week. They sicken me." Agent sniffed disdainfully.

AR-15 bared her teeth. "Bitch..."

Agent was about to retort when she spotted M4 SOPMOD II tapping at the holographic interface for the combat simulator. "What are you doing, you leftover?" she asked the gynoid whose body was an amalgamation of Sangvis and Griffin parts.

'I have something in common with a Griffin Doll? What an unpleasant thought.' The shielder shouldered past M4A1 and M16A1, and approached M4 SOPMOD II.

"Oh, I was looking at the list of Ringleaders we can practice against," chirped the grenadier. "At the bottom of the list, there's somebody called SP47."

Agent tensed up. 'That designation. I haven't been called that since World War Three.'

"It stands out because the other Ringleaders are called by their names, but this one isn't. I wanna see who it is~!" M4 SOPMOD II selected 'SP47' on the interface before the maid could stop her.

The hologram generators in the training hall whirred softly as they were activated. Moments later, a flickering lookalike of Agent stood before them, her face blank.

"Huh. So, SP47 is you, Agent." M16A1 grinned.

'Why... why is there a combat program based off of me in the system?' Agent turned and gazed up at the observation deck. Plexiglas protected the monitors and occupants inside it.

Dumont was coming down from the observation deck. His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. He halted at the bottom of the stairs.

"Commander, what is the meaning of this?" The adjutant demanded, pointing at the hologram. 'Are you planning to train your echelons to dispose of me? Is this one of your contingencies?' Her joint motors suddenly felt like ice.

The Commander lit the cigarette in his hand. He took a long drag. The stench of tobacco wafted across the room.

'He always craves a cigarette whenever he's stressed.'

"Sometimes, you're too curious for your own good, SOPMOD II," Dumont said mildly. The aforementioned Doll rubbed the back of her head with an awkward laugh.

"I'll make this absolutely clear: the combat program modelled after Agent is meant to prepare you for facing her dummies." His gaze met the maid's. "That is its only purpose."

The icy feeling in her joint motors began to subside.

"Eh?" M4 SOPMOD II started. "You mean after you've recruited her, we still might end up fighting her dummies? What a pain..." she whined.

"High-power weaponry, hologram generators, shield generators," listed Dumont. "With equipment like that, Eliza isn't going to just to discard Agent's dummies."

AR-15's face pinched. "But who will control them? The Mastermind herself?"

"Not necessarily. We know Eliza is responsible for the creation of three Ringleaders." The AR Team was listening with rapt attention. "She's probably been working in secret to create more AIs. With Agent on our side now, that possibility is fact. We know from reports from Team Negev and other squads that Ringleader dummies can be controlled by independent AIs." Like Dreamer's duplicates, for instance.

"It should go without saying, but do not discuss the SP47 combat practice program with anyone, including Helian and Persica."

M16A1 squinted. "Really keeping it close to your chest, huh, Commander?"

"Yeah." Dumont blew out smoke.

"Heh. We can do that, Commander."

"Don't worry, sir. No one will hear anything from us," added M4A1 quietly.

"I'm glad to hear it. SOPMOD II, while you're there, can you turn that off?" Dumont indicated the hard-light replica of Agent.

"Sure thing, Commander."

The hologram vanished.

Afterwards, Team Anti-Rain left the training hall.

The uniformed man stayed behind with Agent. They looked at each other.

"I should've told you sooner. About the combat program," he admitted, his tone apologetic.

"I would've preferred that, instead of finding out like this," said Agent stiffly. "You're correct in that Eliza won't toss aside my dummy units. Who else knows?"

"Welrod. She designed the program."

Agent quirked an eyebrow. "Not the logistician?" Programming was one of Kalina's skills. She'd been the one to program the mass-produced unit replicas, as well as design the environments.

Dumont shook his head. "...There's a chance she could spill the beans to Helian."

"And the spymaster won't?"

"No." The absolute certainty in his voice gave Agent pause. What made the Commander so confident that Welrod Mk II wouldn't leak the information to the bureaucrat?

"You know, you never submitted a summary of your combat skills. You gave intel about the other Ringleader's abilities, but not your own."

"...At the time, I didn't stop to consider if Eliza would actually use my spare bodies and equipment against Griffin, even in my absence." That'd been true, at first. Then she'd started to wonder what the Commander - and Griffin itself - could and would do with the data she gave about herself. It'd made her hesitate, and remain silent. The PMC was in possession of her unencrypted memories, which contained three years of her life. To glean the full extent of her prowess in battle, it would take quite a while.

"Hmm. Or were you afraid that the information in your summary would be used against you?"

Her lips twitched. Agent struggled to maintain an apathetic façade. 'He sees right through me...'

Dumont sighed. "Agent..." He walked up to her, stopping at arm's length. "We've already come this far. Why would I get rid of you? I'm not gonna go back on our deal."

She searched his face for any sign of deception. All she saw was an earnest expression. "...I believe you. But I still don't trust Griffin."

"Fair enough. You were at war with them for three years." Dumont held his nearly-finished cigarette between two fingers. "I'm not sure how much I trust HQ, myself."

* * *

Without knocking, Agent strode into the Commander's office. The blonde man was seated at his desk, his eyes on the laptop screen in front of him. He looked up. Dumont clicked on something with his mouse, and set aside his laptop.

"Afternoon, Commander."

"Hello, Agent. Got more reports for me to look over?"

Agent clasped her hands together. "No, sir." Her voicebox glitched before she could continue speaking. She rebooted it and mimicked clearing her throat.

Dumont frowned. "Everything okay, Agent?"

"Yes, Commander. I'm aware that since I've been here for only a week, it's presumptuous of me to ask, but..."

He stared at her expectantly.

"...Seeing as it's a quiet day today, I would like to visit the nearest settlement." Agent ignored the increasingly loud thrum inside her chest. She hoped Dumont couldn't hear it. It was embarrassing for a T-Doll of her caliber to react in such a manner.

"May I ask what for?"

"...To purchase ingredients." She forced herself to maintain eye contact with the man, whose brow furrowed. Agent planned to cook for herself, and the Commander. The man hadn't gone to a single breakfast, lunch, or dinner in the - admittedly short - time she acted as his adjutant. She intended to change that.

Even without tasting anything, Agent was confident that the Griffins' cooking was inferior to hers, and that the contents of their pantry were subpar.

Commander Dumont smirked knowingly.

Agent glowered. Was she really that easy to figure out? "...What is your answer?"

"I mean, sure. When do you want to leave? I can come with you."

'As simple as that, hm?' She processed the rest of what he'd said and paled. "There's no need for you to trouble yourself like that, Commander." If he accompanied her, he could catch on to what she was going to make for him.

'I want it to be a surprise for Dumont.'

"Besides, the spymaster has already agreed to go with me."

"You roped Welrod into this?" Dumont scratched his cheek. "That's the most surprising part."

"Really, Commander?" The HG Doll just had to choose that moment to make her appearance. Welrod Mk II stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Agent, her hands behind her back. "I have some errands to take care of in Town Twenty-Two. I can do them and make sure Agent doesn't try anything suspicious."

The android in the pinstriped outfit had agreed to escort the adjutant for the purpose of getting the Commander to eat an actual meal.

"You'll be taking your dummies with you." Dumont relaxed in his seat.

"That's right." Welrod Mk II placed a hand on her bare hip. "I'm going to need your detonator."

One of the two detonators for the bomb inside Agent's torso. The bomb that the head technician, Harkov, had implanted. The maid grimaced. 'I'd rather she didn't have the detonator in her possession. But if this is what it takes for me to achieve my goal, then… so be it.'

"Why mine? You can always ask Kalina for hers."

"She's busy right now. And if I ask her, Miss Helian is more likely to find out."

"We definitely don't want that to happen…" Hands flat on his desk, the Commander pushed himself up to his full height. His chair rolled out behind him. "I'll see you here in five. You'll get the detonator then."

"Wait – you…" Welrod Mk II gaped at the man. "…You don't have it on you?"

"You're jumping to conclusions." He circled the desk. "I said that you'll get it in five minutes."

That sounded like a weak deflection to Agent.

The realisation hit.

She couldn't stop herself from goggling at Dumont.

'What – what does this mean? Commander, you – ' Agent stifled her shock. Her countenance became severe again.

Welrod Mk II cried, "How irresponsible can you be?!"

"Kalina always carries her own detonator with her," reminded Dumont.

If Agent were to ever attack someone at the base, the redheaded logistician wouldn't necessarily be able to instantly activate the bomb lodged in the T-Doll's torso. No limiter to prevent her from harming humans had been installed in her neural cloud.

'Dumont, your trust in me… it's – ' Agent crossed her arms. 'This is you returning the favour, isn't it? For the fact that I entrusted you with the entirety of my history. With all those encrypted files.'

"Wait here," ordered the Commander, then stepped out.

"What's the matter? Afraid?"

"Of you? In your bloody dreams, Agent." Despite saying so, Welrod Mk II put some distance between herself and the adjutant, as if she was ready to bolt.

The taller gynoid was openly amused by that. "You weren't this afraid when you brought me into your little lair to be repaired."

Welrod Mk II loosened her shoulders. "True. I suppose the circumstances are pretty much the same now as they were then, since the Commander is, well, you know." She covered her mouth and muttered, "It's a good thing I've been taking precautions of my own."

Agent cycled through a list of potential precautions in her electronic headspace. She hadn't seen the HG Doll use any defensive measures outside of her hidden lair. Most likely, the Doll in front of her wasn't Welrod Mk II's main body.

"You've always used a dummy to interact with me. Even now, I'm facing your dummy, and not your mainframe."

The handgun wielder tugged on her gloves. "Correct."

They waited in silence until Dumont stepped back into the office. He held out the capped detonator to her. She took the cylindrical object and pocketed it.

* * *

Town Twenty-Two was a settlement two hours away by train. There was a station four kilometers away from the Griffin base, and that was where Agent and Welrod had boarded the train after she received the detonator.

The pistol wielder wasn't willing to waste a helicopter for this trip. Not when an emergency could arise. She brought two of her dummies along, leaving the other ones powered down in her secret office.

She and the Sangvis sat on scuffed, but durable, plastic chairs. The carriage they were in was one of the ones allocated for Dolls specifically. Androids travelling without supervision had to sit separately from humans.

This could be considered an act of discrimination, but Dolls were thought of as tools by most. These people wouldn't even call them a 'lower form of life'. Machinery, molded and shaped to pass off as human, and programmed to act in a certain manner, was an imitation of life, at best.

And a mockery, at worst.

Outside of Griffin, these sentiments prevailed throughout the world.

Even within the organisation, there were individuals who shared similar thoughts: technicians, logistics personnel, Commanders, and members of HQ.

Welrod and Agent were the only ones in the carriage.

"Next stop, Town Twenty-Two. Repeat, next stop is Town Twenty-Two. Please prepare to disembark," came the announcement through the intercom.

"That's us, then." Welrod rose up from her seat. Agent did so, too. "When we're out and about, you follow my orders. You can defend yourself, but you will not launch an unprovoked attack unless I order it. Do you understand, Agent?"

The erstwhile Grand Overseer gave an ugly scowl. "I expected as much. Yes, spymaster, I understand."

"Good." Welrod gestured to the double-doors. "After you, then." She intended to keep Agent in her sight at all times. Mainframe, dummy - either would suffice.

The doors slid open. The one-time Ringleader was the first to step onto the platform. The stiletto heels of her boots clacked against the concrete. Welrod stayed close to her as they walked towards the security checkpoint.

Guards carrying assault rifles and encased in dark green armour from head to toe were positioned or strolling throughout the station. 'Members of the garrison,' thought Welrod. A quad-rotor drone, a machine gun attached to its underside, swept by her.

The few human passengers who'd gotten off the train were queued at the booth allocated for them.

The line for Dolls was empty. One guard, acting as an inspector, manned the booth beside it. Welrod strode towards it, Agent right behind her.

The blonde simulated clearing her throat to get the guard's attention. His slow response made it obvious that he was completely uninterested in doing his job. His face was shielded by a black-tinted visor. "The hell do you want, tin can?"

Welrod's right eyebrow shot up. "Isn't it obvious?" she drawled, unperturbed. "To pass through, like all the other passengers."

"That thing with you?" He pointed at Agent. Murderous intent flashed across her pale visage. Welrod witnessed this through the eyes of her primary dummy. Thankfully, the guard was too apathetic to notice it.

"Yes, she is." Welrod's secondary dummy warningly gripped Agent's left elbow. 'This is the worst possible time to act up. You'll jeopardize us both like that.'

"ID."

Four days ago, Welrod had gotten falsified identification papers prepared for Agent. Just in case she needed someone unrestrained by any limiter software for some wetwork. The T-Doll with the double bun hairstyle retained her shield generator, her combat hologram emitters, and the power source for the 'Key of Omens'. None of them had been tampered with. Even without any guns, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

In this situation, however, showing her own papers first would be more prudent.

Welrod produced an ID card, Griffin's emblem on the back of it.

The inspector took the card and placed it under a scanner inside the booth. "Griffin, huh? What's a 'T-Doll' doing out here with no human babysitter?"

"Oh, we're just here to see the sights. Do some shopping," she answered blithely.

"Uh-huh."

'He sounds like he doesn't believe me.' Welrod took her card back and put it away.

"Alright, gonna have to run a scan on you. Standard procedure. Gotta know what sort of doodads you've got packed in that body of yours. Same goes for her." The inspector stood up. He waved over to three guards. They started approaching the booth. "Can't let anything dangerous pass through, you get me?"

Agent became wary. Welrod stiffened. 'This is a big problem. The scan will show them what hardware Agent's got. And that's a complication the Commander really doesn't need.' If Dumont had been here, the guards wouldn't have scanned them. 'It's because there's no human to supervise us. These garrison members think they can get away with anything.'

Welrod presented another card. It had no emblems or words on either side. Only a bar code. "Please scan this first. Before you go through with scanning us."

"You think you can tell me what to do, Doll?"

"I'm merely suggesting. For your own good."

The inspector clicked his tongue. He plopped down in his chair and snatched the new card out of Welrod's hand. He thrust the card under the scanner and waited for the result to come up on his computer.

When it did, his visor was fixated on the monitor. "...'Special exception'... what the fuck is this?" He turned around. "Captain, come take a look at this!"

A second guard walked over to him. "What's the problem, Andrei?" He read the result of the scan. "Let them through."

"Huh?! Just like that?!"

"Just like that."

Welrod smiled. "Thank you, _gentlemen_. We shall be on our way." She held out her hand, and the captain returned the card with the barcode to her. She placed it in her pocket and marched past the booth, her dummies and Agent right behind her.

Within earshot, the captain whispered to the inspector, "We have to tell the others. That 'special exception' - only Statesec agents have those."

"Statesec? So that Doll, she's - "

"Got it in one. None of our guys can tangle with someone like that."

* * *

One of the Griffin base's kitchens was located behind the cafe/bar run by a T-Doll called M1903 Springfield. She was responsible for getting supplies, managing the account, preparing dishes and drinks and serving them. She didn't do all of this by herself. Other garbage such as G36 aided her in her tasks.

Agent was wary of M1903 Springfield. 'She or one of the other vermin could poison the food that I've made.' The ex-Ringleader marched into the kitchen.

A large oven, under an eight-zoned solid plate hob, was adjacent to a counter atop which two kettles and a microwave were situated. A steel-grey refrigerator as wide as a van was opposite the oven and four meters away from it. Electric deep fryers, four total, stood perpendicular to the fridge. It, and its contents, did not interest Agent in the slightest.

Six people could work shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter. She wanted the space all to herself.

M1903 Springfield was in the middle of drying up a small pot. She opened a cupboard and placed it in there. The gentle smile on her face dipped when she faced Agent, becoming much more neutral. "Ah, it's you."

"I will be using this kitchen," declared the adjutant.

"You can't just storm in here and decide that. Some prior notice would've really been appreciated."

"We can't always get what we want, Griffin trash. And it's not as though you're currently preparing anything in here. Most visit this... establishment for the hot drinks and alcohol, not the food. I'm certainly not about to use the cafeteria's kitchen when they'll shortly start making dinner." Agent walked up to the counter and set two plastic bags down on it carefully. Notifying M1903 Springfield of her arrival beforehand would have given the rifle user and her helpers time to commit sabotage.

'I won't allow anyone to undermine my efforts.' Poison naturally toxic to a human posed no threat to a Doll. At worst, it'd leave a foul taste in her mouth and clog up some inner machinery. Agent never visited the cafeteria at the base in order to avoid this. There was always the possibility that some good-for-nothing would poison the embarrassing parody of a meal being served to her.

The maidservant started taking out items from the plastic bags: a carton of eggs, a pack filled with flour, a salt container, butter, among others.

"Just what are you planning on making, and for how many people?" wondered the cafe proprietor.

"That's none of your concern, Griffin leftover." Agent yanked off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket. As she approached the sink in the corner, she noted the camera trained on her. 'Hmph. Ever watchful, aren't you, spymaster?' Welrod Mk II was to monitor her while she prepared her dinner.

Turning on the tap, Agent washed her hands. 'The running water appears to be fine.' She planned to give the utensils she'd be using a thorough wash.

Tap turned off, she glanced at M1903 Springfield, who stood off to the side. "You may stay and observe. However, you are not to touch anything. You may pass this on to the others: any who disrupt my cooking or tamper with the dishes that I make will lose a hand or an ear."

The rifle T-Doll chuckled. "Oh, I agree. Such a thing shouldn't be tolerated. Especially when it comes to making food."

"I'm surprised you do." Agent rinsed a frying pan, then began cleaning a ginormous pot. Her entire head could fit into it without any trouble. Next, a knife, a cleaver, a whisk and a large bowl made of china were washed. "I thought you Griffins were all soft."

"There are some things... I simply cannot abide."

Having re-washed her hands, Agent cracked one egg on the rim of the bowl. She smoothly pulled apart the halves of the shell, letting the yolk plop into the china bowl. The shell pieces were binned. She repeated this with another egg, and poured in water.

Agent briefly whisked the water with the eggs. Afterwards, the maid added salt, approximately two teaspoonfuls, and whisked the mixture again.

Flour filled the bowl as she shook it out of the pack. Upon finishing that, she gave one last shake for good measure, set the pack aside, and resumed mixing.

Added more flour. Whisked it.

Added even more. Whisked it again.

The result was dough. Agent tested its consistency with her bare hands. She squeezed it through her fingers, rolled, repeated, and re-rolled it together. Satisfied, the T-Doll left the dough under an upturned bowl on the counter.

She washed her hands to get rid of the flour and dough clinging on to her synth-skin.

'Now for the filling...' Out came the chopping board. She peeled and chopped up a pair of large onions, as well as two cloves of garlic. Following that, she sautéed them.

The hob was switched off. She placed minced meat in a new, clean bowl, together with the sautéed onion and garlic, salting and peppering them. Agent proceeded to mix them by hand. 'There, that's the filling done.'

With a rolling pin, the Doll subsequently flattened out the dough she'd prepared. Cut out circles by pressing the rim of a wine glass into it. Placed a clump of the filling on each doughy circle before folding it up.

* * *

Agent squirted some cooking oil into a frying pan, tilting it around to spread out the oil. The bowl beside the hob was filled with batter she'd just made. She poured a portion of it into the pan to create an even layer. The batter soon started to bubble up.

A pancake was beginning to form.

Deftly flicking her wrist, Agent jerked the frying pan up. The pancake got flipped over completely.

The sizzle of the oil and the aroma did not distract her. She was just as focused on her surroundings as she was on the pan.

"Watching you, I can tell this is far from your first time cooking," M1903 Springfield commented. She hadn't moved from her spot since Agent had taken over the kitchen.

'I used to cook for myself, Destroyer, and Architect all the time. Scarecrow would, on occasion, join in. But this is the first time in years I'm preparing a meal for a human...' Agent added sliced ham and cheese onto the pancake, and folded it in half. Seconds later, she turned it over, letting it cook a little longer.

She transferred it onto a dinner plate, and got started on the next one.

"How much food are you planning on making?"

"Is that your best attempt at distracting me?"

From the corner of her vision, she glimpsed M1903 Springfield pouting. "I'm genuinely curious. You're not actually making some for the Commander, are you?"

The second pancake was done.

"And what is it to you, you piece of garbage? You think I intend to poison him?" Agent poured in the batter. The frying pan sizzled. "Your neural cloud must be malfunctioning if you've come to that conclusion." Her dark-haired buns wobbled as she gave a headshake. "I suppose I can expect little else from a third-rate Doll."

"...The T-Dolls I've spoken to weren't exaggerating about how abrasive you are."

Agent glanced at the proprietor, who was smiling gently. "In this case, you're the one assuming things, Agent. I watched you from the very start. You did nothing that even implied you'd slip something to the Commander."

Sneering, Agent flipped the pancake over. "How fortunate we are that your optics haven't failed you yet."

M1903 Springfield sighed. "You and your insults... Things would be easier for you if you tried to be nicer."

"Really, now. No one would believe such behaviour to be genuine. And it wouldn't be, anyway."

"There's something you should know about the Commander. For context. He doesn't really eat anything that hasn't been sealed."

"I've noticed," said Agent drily.

"He's most likely not going to try the food you're making for him."

Sliced cheese and ham was laid onto the pancake currently being fried. Agent folded it once. "What makes you so certain?"

"Ah, well... it's just that - three months ago, the Commander got poisoned while eating dinner."

Hearing that statement almost caused Agent to forget that she was cooking. She hurried to turn the pancake on its other side. "Are you _joking_ me?"

"It wasn't intentional," continued M1903 Springfield. "The chemical isn't one dangerous to T-Dolls, but for humans... it's almost lethal. Commander Dumont survived by a miracle and a half."

"So the culprit was one of you pieces of filth."

"I never said - "

"You didn't have to. The hint you gave was sufficient enough. Was it a P7 unit? Or an ART556 one? I've encountered enough of those to know they cause more problems for their comrades than they do for Sangvis Ferri."

The cafe/bar proprietor remained quiet.

"What's the matter, M1903 Springfield? Do you believe I'll seek out the culprit, if they're still here? Now you're the one making assumptions," taunted Agent. "Of course, the validity of the information you gave me is still in question. After all, the source is you, a Griffin T-Doll."

"Ask the Commander yourself, then."

"Oh, I shall."

* * *

"'The cutting edge of a newer world'..." Griffin & Kryuger's slogan. Of course, nothing was ever as simple as that. To those in the know, it was a declaration.

A declaration of the PMC's true intentions.

Xavier puffed out smoke, an almost-finished cig pinched in his fingers, burning its last embers. He was all too familiar with those intentions, and their results. The stench of tobacco was as recognisable as the sweet release of nicotine.

"What a fuckin' joke..."

The sun was setting. A light breeze lapped at his exposed neck, his shirt's collar undone. His comm rang, and he answered. "Agent, what is it?"

"Commander, I wanted to speak with you in private."

'A bit unexpected, but okay...' Xavier dropped the cig and ground it underneath his shoe. "You can come up to the roof." That was where he was, overlooking the entirety of the command post.

"Thank you, but I've already checked the room I'm in for hidden cameras and listening devices." Right. Because doing that again in another location was an unnecessary hassle.

"Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

* * *

In a room not far from Springfield's cafe, it turned out. Agent was standing by a cloth-covered table when he entered.

His gaze was drawn to the lidded plates, cutlery, and napkins on it.

"I thought you wanted a private conversation, not a dinner date," he drawled.

Agent coughed into a fist. "I won't comment on the 'date' part, but the rest is true." She took both lids off, unveiling folded, filled pancakes and steaming dumplings. The aroma hit him before he could blink.

"Dammit, there's a reason why I stay away from the cafeteria. So that I don't get tempted like this..." His mouth watered. 'She basically lured me here...'

"Commander, if you're still apprehensive, please be assured that I did not once take my eyes off the food I was making. I can let you see how I prepared our meals. The spymaster observed me."

'No poison, huh. That's what Agent's saying.' Xavier stepped forward. "You made all this yourself? From scratch?" The food didn't appear to be store-brought.

"Of course I did, Dumont. As if I'd entrust such a task to one of the Griffins. After what I've heard, I have all the more reason not to."

"Ah." Xavier's eyes rounded. "Wait, did you buy the ingredients with your own money?"

Agent frowned. "How else would I buy it? I used a portion of the pay I received yesterday for my services as adjutant."

"I - Damn, that's... you really didn't have to go that far for me..."

Agent's bangs swayed when she shook her head. "It's not nearly as impressive as it seems. I wished to cook something for myself as well as you. Two birds, one stone. All there is to it, Dumont."

"...Be a shame to let it go to waste, huh?" Xavier surveyed the plates. "Which one's yours?"

"The one closest to me."

Circling the table, he took his seat. The fact that Agent had made his dinner was encouraging. Out of all the Dolls under his command, she was the last person who'd ever dare to poison him. Her continued 'employment' by Griffin was dependent on him. She wouldn't jeopardize her own survival by tampering with his meal. This assurance wasn't the basis for his decision; merely the rationalisation for it.

Xavier tucked in. He tasted a slice of one pancake, savouring the taste of melted cheese and the complimenting ham flavour. "This is really good."

"I'm pleased to hear that. There's sour cream and mayonnaise if you'd like some."

He added a spoonful of the former to his portion. "Did Welrod even have any errands to run, or was that just an excuse?"

"She claims she did. She no doubt had her errands done while I was busy making purchases."

The man chewed on a sour cream-topped dumpling, then swallowed. "Y'know, others'll probably interpret this as you sucking up to me."

"And? The only time I'm even thinking about trash is when I'm cleaning."

That wasn't quite true. She was far from lax in her duties as adjutant; giving thorough reports, overseeing training, supervising logistics missions. Agent most likely did all that to remain in his good graces, though.

He felt somewhat guilty that he'd given her so much work. Then again, she hadn't complained once about the workload. 'Maybe it's because she'd prefer to be kept busy... Since the alternative would be to idle around in a base where almost everyone is against her being here.'

"What's on your mind, Dumont?"

"Hmm? Just thinking that I wouldn't be too worried about it, either. You're definitely spoiling me like this." Xavier munched on another dumpling.

Agent chewed a slice of one pancake wrap and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

'Your table manners and cooking. I wonder, were you programmed with them, or did you pick 'em up later?'

"You can hardly call this spoiling when the last time you apparently ate a proper meal was months ago."

* * *

Pushing away his empty plate, Xavier wiped his chin using a cloth.

"Commander, I plan to make breakfast tomorrow. Do you have any requests?"

He scratched his cheek. "Uh, well... I'd like syrniki, fried eggs, and bacon. And coffee, please."

"How would you like yours?"

"Black. No sugar. For future reference, if it's Turkish-style coffee, then add two spoonfuls of sugar."

"Understood." Agent cleared away the plates and cutlery.

"The food was delicious, Agent. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Commander." She returned to her seat. "I do not wish to disrupt a pleasant evening, but one question has been dwelling within my neural cloud: is it true that you were... poisoned three months ago?"

Xavier sobered. "...Yeah, it's true."

Hatred smouldered in Agent's gaze as she bared her teeth. "Those worthless pieces of shit - "

"Enough," he cut her off forcefully. "That's enough, Agent. It was an accident."

"An accident?! Someone spiking your food is _not_ an accident." She was voicing suspicions he'd kept to himself after the incident. He remembered the corner of his mouth bleeding, and his body going into shock. It'd been the closest he'd come to dying, apart from the Sangvis assault last week. He'd woken up in the infirmary, with an antidote already administered.

"The Doll thought she was pranking one of her comrades, not me. She didn't know that the dish she'd tampered with had been meant for me."

"A likely story," scoffed Agent. "Did you at least check any point-of-view recordings of the - the - " Her mouth shut. She snapped her head to the side so hard that he thought he'd heard the metallic, endo-skeletal part of her neck creak in protest.

'She's seriously pissed.'

"I did. Based on the evidence gathered, I ruled it as an unintended poisoning. You don't have to be so angry on my behalf, you know."

She looked at him again. "Why shouldn't I be? Because of that incident, you were practically starving yourself."

"I got by fine. I've already forgiven P7 - "

"So, it was a P7 model after all."

" - and she was punished for it." Xavier planted his hands on the table. "If you go after her, then you and I will have a serious problem."

'Maybe I should actually start carrying that detonator around with me, in case Agent tries to pull a stupid stunt...'

Rising to her feet, Agent said, "I understand, Dumont."

"Hey, if I can forgive you for trying to kill me, forgiving P7 doesn't seem so strange, does it?"

She bowed her head. Her optics were cast into shadow. "...You do?"

"Yeah. I got over that even before our chopper touched down here. Just wanted to give a heads-up, tomorrow we'll be receiving the first group of restored T-Dolls."


	11. Chapter 11

_Despite the number of face-to-face meetings Welrod had had with Miss Helian, she'd only met her in person once. That'd happened on her first day on the job. Every following meeting had been via hologram._

_Today was no exception._

_Welrod took a sip of her Earl Grey. Her programmed sense of taste interpreted the flavour as a balm._

_Setting the cup down with a soft clink, she activated the holo-projector/-recorder before her. As per Miss Helian's earlier instructions, she was meeting her at the pre-appointed time: 10:30 p.m._

_She reclined in her leather-bound chair. Her neural cloud was alert as ever._

_The hologram comms device chimed and she reached forward to jab a button on the console. In doing so, she accepted the call. An image of a thirty-something woman, nine inches in height, formed, flickering briefly before it stabilized._

_"Welrod."_

_"Miss Helian."_

_"You require my services once again?"_

_Kryuger's right-hand woman adjusted her monocle. "Straight to the point as always. That's one of the things I like most about you. And you're indeed correct. Griffin has just had a new hire. I'm sending you the relevant file."_

_Welrod's inbox issued a pop-up notification. She clicked on it, getting redirected to the email, and downloaded the file. It opened up as a holo-display beside Helian's holographic figure._

_The handgun Doll skimmed the file. "...Interesting record," she concluded._

_Helian harrumphed. "Yes, well, I believe you can see why I was against - and still am - the hiring of this man. But Mr Kryuger would have none of it. He personally appointed him to Commander, even knowing his past history."_

_Welrod leaned forward, rubbing her chin. "This 'Xavier Dumont.' What do you want me to do about him?"_

_"Have him under surveillance. Treat him as a threat. He _is_ a threat to Griffin. I want you to find proof of that - irrefutable proof - and then bring it to me."_

_Welrod found that the grey-haired human was being somewhat paranoid. If Kryuger vouched for the man, regardless of his record, that meant he was a good fit, right?_

_'Not good enough for Miss Helian, clearly. She's dead set on booting him out of G&K. Though I am a bit curious, myself. What made Mr Kryuger take on this man?'_

_"I accept the assignment."_

_"Excellent. You'll be transferred to his base of operations tomorrow. Expect a heli to arrive at 0600."_

_"Understood, Miss Helian. Welrod out."_

* * *

_Welrod sat in her study, scanning files on her desktop. _

_Three days ago, Dumont had 'recruited' Agent. _

_She'd provided a plethora of data for Welrod to go through. _

_Whilst she was processing information about the Ringleader named Beak, Welrod came to a realisation. The status of Agent's self-destruct device had never been verified. 'That means that right now, she could be walking around with a bomb in her chest, which she could trigger at any moment.'_

_Ringleaders were notoriously difficult – near impossible – to capture. Each one's mainframe and dummies always self-destructed upon being surrounded by Griffin forces. The last notable effort had been Scarecrow. Skorpion, Sten, Ingram and others had gunned down the reconnaissance specialist, leaving their masked foe battered and sparking. _

_Frustratingly, she'd followed Sangvis protocol and had blown herself up before any information could be extracted from her memory module._

_Early on, HQ theorized that SF command units had self-destruct mechanisms installed in their torsos. _

_Agent's intel confirmed this._

'_Harkov was in charge of implanting the tracker and det-chip provided by Helian,' recalled Welrod. 'He had to have seen that Sangvis' self-destruct device.'_

_Except, there was no mention of it in the report he'd submitted after the procedure. Even more damning, the device itself was nowhere to be seen. _

'_We know what they look like. We also know that they are as durable as tank armour plating.'_

_Her neural cloud incorporated these details into its inference algorithm. _

'_The self-destruct explosive was never taken out. Agent has still got it,' she concluded._

_Why would Harkov keep quiet about that? _

_Dumont must've ordered him to remain silent. According to repair bay cam footage, the Commander had supervised the implantation procedure. Unfortunately, the side-room where this had taken place lacked cameras. Furthermore, Harkov was vigilant. _

_Any attempts to bug the repair bay had ended in failure. _

'_So why, Commander? Why would you make Harkov keep his mouth shut?' _

_That wasn't the only odd occurrence. Dumont had asked Welrod to not view a particular segment of Agent's unencrypted memories._

_The one showing the Commander making a deal with the former Grand Overseer. _

_She'd agreed not to, out of respect for his privacy. _

_It hadn't crossed her mind that he was trying to hide a different sort of secret._

_Groaning, the HG T-Doll slapped her forehead. 'Dumont, I don't even have to watch the footage to be sure.' _

_Being pardoned and accepted into Griffin's ranks wasn't enough for Agent. She apparently required a countermeasure. _

_A deterrent. _

_Welrod cracked her mechanical knuckles. 'To be fair, I'd have done the same. Use a deterrent, that is. Not threaten to blow myself up if things didn't go as planned.' _

_She wouldn't watch the implicating footage. _

_Instead, Welrod made a call. _

* * *

One hour after dinner with Agent, Xavier returned to the Command Room. A meeting with Kryuger and Helian would begin shortly.

His adjutant wasn't supposed to attend.

That was the condition stipulated by Helian.

He'd ordered Agent to help Kalina write up combat reports.

He stopped next to the touchscreen keypad by the door. The Commander tapped the 'lock' option for it. Gears whirred and metal clanged.

The noise died down quickly.

Welrod stood waiting at the communications array. Xavier strode over to her. "How's the soundproofing here?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.

The gynoid turned to him. "Works as intended, sir."

"Good. Then we're ready to start."

A flickering bluish figure sprang up at the hologram-emitting console. The silver-rimmed monocle and grey hair, coupled with a constant frown, were unmistakable.

Xavier grunted. "Helian."

"Dumont."

He lit a cigarette. It'd make the meeting a little more tolerable. The smell of tobacco assailed his nostrils. Welrod's face puckered in disgust. She smoothed out her features into a neutral visage after catching him glance her way.

"Mr Kryuger will join us in a few moments. But before he does, there's something I'd like you to answer, Dumont."

He puffed out smoke. "What is it?"

"What happened to Agent's self-destruct mechanism?"

Xavier's teeth clenched around the cigarette filter.

Helian continued, "I looked over the reports and there was no mention of it, even though we're aware that all Ringleaders are equipped with one. Would you care to explain this oversight?"

'Damn it. I really should've prepped better for a situation like this. I thought it'd escape her notice, but guess not. What excuse should I give?'

Folding her arms, Helian tapped her bicep repeatedly. "I'm waiting, Dumont."

Holding his cig, Xavier opened his mouth to speak.

But Welrod beat him to the punch. "He just forgot to mention what happened. I've got it right here, Miss Helian." The T-Doll placed a matte black cuboid object on the table with a quiet clack. A serial number in white print ran along one side. The item was no bigger than his thumb.

"This is the self-destruct device that was inside Agent's mainframe," lied Welrod, her palms flat against the table.

Xavier put on his best poker face, and simply resumed smoking. 'I'm not surprised she figured it out. Then again, I don't think I did a good job in hiding the fact Agent can blow herself up whenever she wants. Cover-ups and fabricating evidence are not my forte.'

Helian squinted. "That's it? That's what's prevented us, time and time again, from capturing a Ringleader for interrogation?"

Interrogation was a term being used loosely. Helian was referring to data extraction.

"Its size and appearance are deceptive. It can destroy everything in this room, and then some." Welrod laid a hand on her navy-blue tie.

"How typically destructive of Sangvis technology. Thank you for clearing the matter up, Welrod."

Xavier didn't like being seen as incompetent, but in this case it was preferable to the alternative.

The console chimed.

"Ah, that'll be Mr Kryuger joining us."

The leader of Griffin appeared in hologram form alongside Helian. "Commander Dumont. I trust your forces are regaining their strength?"

Xavier immediately straightened. Even though Kryuger had fought against his homeland in WW3, he still respected the man. "Yes, sir. All T-Dolls who survived the raid have had their dummies restored. We're expecting the first group of rebuilt T-Doll mainframes to arrive tomorrow."

Kryuger nodded ever so slightly. "Good. I'd question you on your appointment of Agent to adjutant - " Xavier clenched his jaw " - but this meeting isn't about that. It's about the KCCO."

The Commander unclenched it. "The military? What the hell do they want?"

"Six Commanders were tasked with advancing towards the central Sangvis facility." In front of Kryuger's figure, a holographic display of a map appeared. There were six areas marked with the Griffin insignia adjacent to a mountain range. "The plan was for them to clear a path for reinforcements, who would then take over the assault to keep up the momentum. But the military has put a stop to that." The Griffin logo over four of the locations flickered and vanished, getting replaced by the KCCO symbol, a two-headed eagle with a pair of crowns and sceptres. "Their forces have taken over operations in these sectors."

Rage thundered within Xavier. Rather than show it, he stifled it, and leaned on the table. He studied the holo-map. His features illuminated by cyan light, he looked up at Kryuger. "Without the KCCO's help, the T-Dolls in the sectors still under Griffin control are gonna end up getting bottlenecked."

The bearded Russian nodded. "Yes, that's exactly my Commanders have reported. Sangvis echelons are holding their Dolls at bay."

Xavier rubbed his chin. "And there's no way to properly flank the SF echelons without crossing over into territory under KCCO 'jurisdiction'. Do we know what Ringleaders are in charge of the sectors where Griffin's still got a presence?"

"Unfortunately, no," Helian answered for Kryuger. "No Ringleaders have made themselves known since the start of the campaign."

"Unusual for Sangvis. They're not the sort to shy away from bragging and showing off." The Commander furrowed his brow as he returned to staring at the holo-map. It became more detailed, displaying how the SF defences were set up. Evenly spread out, with no room for a gap of any kind. Jupiter artillery platforms had the Sangvis positions in their sights at all times. "But their defence tactics... they're ones devised by Agent."

"You can tell just by looking?"

"I've read up on them. This is straight out of her playbook. What's your take, Welrod?"

Welrod regarded the holo-map blankly. "It's as you say, sir. It would appear that the other Command units have begun to adopt her strategies. Both for their effectiveness, and to maintain anonymity."

"Has four-oh-four been roped into this?" asked Xavier. "Getting past one of these blockades and disrupting it seems like a job right up their alley."

"They've already been dispatched," Helian replied stiffly.

404 was a four-Doll unit led by UMP45, a "one-of-a-kind" model. One-of-a-kinds weren't rare. The AR Team members and all of the Ringleaders fell into that category, as well as models like MG5 and M200.

What made 404 stand out was their 100% success rate, all the while operating without human oversight.

No other unit could boast about that.

UMP45 and her squadmates were also on Helian's payroll. 'All the more reason to be wary of them.'

"So, what do you need from me?" Xavier planted his hands flat on the table.

"Nothing from you personally for the moment, Commander Dumont." Kryuger directed his gaze at the sole android in the room. "It's Welrod whose services we're after." The pistolier stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind her back.

The PMC co-founder added, "I want you to investigate the military's activities in these four sectors. Find out their progress. If they've halted their ops, I want to know why. I want to know why I had to order my Commanders to withdraw from those sectors."

Xavier hoped nobody would notice his minute shiver. 'Kryuger's face is the definition of 'if looks could kill'...'

Welrod frowned. "That's a lot of ground to cover."

"You're more than up to the task. Whatever you choose to do, make sure it's not linked to Griffin in any way."

'Can't let the military know we're onto them.'

Welrod gave a nod. "Understood, sir."

"Commander, when your echelons are back at full strength, you'll be joining the offensive."

"Yes, sir."

Kryuger added, "Welrod, you should've received a file by now about the sectors you'll be investigating."

The gynoid confirmed that she did.

"Then I believe that concludes our business here." Kryuger's hologram winked out, and Helian's followed suit.

Xavier loosened his tie. "That went way better than I thought it would."

Welrod acknowledged his words with a hum.

He turned towards her. "So. How did you figure it out?"

She met his gaze. "Thanks to a certain omission, it was childishly easy to deduce the truth."

Realisation struck. "It was the report, wasn't it? The one made by Harkov. I knew I should've added something."

"Then I'd have requested to see the actual item. You could've tried to commission a forgery, but I would have been able to tell that it was fake."

"Even if you'd never seen the real deal before?"

The handgun Doll folded her arms. "How many forgers do you know who can make a convincing replica of a bomb based only off of blueprints?"

"...None."

"Hmph. That's what I thought."

"Wait. Can that thing actually explode?"

"Only if it's connected to a trigger, which it currently isn't."

"How long have you had the replica?"

"I collected it from my contact in Town Twenty Two."

Xavier's eyes widened. "So, that's why you humoured Agent." He grimaced. "Do I have to reimburse the cost?"

"The price was more than what a Commander earns in a year."

She named the sum. His jaw went slack. 'Y-You... Welrod, you went so far for - '

The blonde man cleared his throat. "...Are you mad at me?"

Welrod cocked her head. "What for, sir? For the fact that you kept a vital detail about Agent a secret? Or I should say, tried to."

He winced.

"I understood you had your reasons, Commander. I don't hold that against you."

His shoulders sagged. A sense of relief washed over him.

"That being said, next time please think twice before you decide to endanger everyone around us," she added wearily.

'Ouch. Hearing that is like getting stabbed right in the heart... I deserve it, though.' No matter how he personally felt about Agent, Welrod's remark was undeniably true.

"You're a lifesaver, Welrod."

"Don't I know it."

Technically, he hadn't reneged on his agreement with Agent.

Technically.

'Wonder if she'll see it the same way.' He was tempted to not tell her that Welrod knew the truth. But it would backfire down the line.

Try as he might, Xavier couldn't stop pondering about the military's recent actions.

"Penny for your thoughts, Commander?"

"The KCCO... what do they have to gain by delaying our victory over Sangvis Ferri? Why would they block our campaign?"

"That's what I want to find out, too."

* * *

An android with crimson irises lounged on her chair. She pushed the brim of her fedora up so that she could properly look at the other passenger aboard the helicopter.

A plethora of knives were strapped to her torso and thighs. She took off the headphones around her neck, and tossed them on the seat next to hers.

Her attire consisted of heeled boots, black pants, similarly-coloured jacket, and under it, a sleeveless, cropped shirt showing off her midriff.

This was Thompson, newly restored. Chewing on a pocky stick, she blamed Type 100 for introducing her to the snack. The fedora wearer would usually buy a few packs of pocky from the vending machine each week to satisfy her craving. A drum-mag submachine gun, its safety on, was lying on another seat next to her.

The other passenger was a T-Doll called Super-Shorty.

A fitting name, as Thompson dwarfed her.

With the two of them, it was a study of contrasts.

Super-Shorty wore her blonde hair in short pigtails, and was clad in a kid's version of a police uniform, blue cap and all. The shotgunner's apparel was more modest than her own.

Her doe blue electronic eyes hinted at a childlike innocence that was non-existent. The pipsqueak had supposedly been an actual cop before getting hired by G&K. Although Thompson was merely dressed up as a mobster, it felt natural to her to oppose cops, be they humans or Dolls.

Personally, the SMG T-Doll thought that Super-Shorty was unfit to be a shotgun unit. Tiny and skinny, she was simply unsuited for the task of drawing enemy fire and protecting her teammates. The small armour plates she had for shields didn't help, either.

'I bet she got killed because of that...' Thompson finished her pocky stick. 'She'd be more efficient as a HG or SMG Doll. Look at MP5: she's small too, but at least she's fast.'

"Quit staring at me. It's offputting and makes me want to arrest you."

"Sorry 'bout that, Miss Police Officer," drawled Thompson. "Just have something on my mind, is all." She pushed her shades up the bridge of her nose. "I was wondering, as someone who's got issues with their height - " Super-Shorty stiffened, her scowl intensifying. Her stature was a sensitive topic. " - Why haven't you gotten your body replaced or modified?"

The ex-cop turned her nose up. "I thought about doing that. A lot of times, actually. But then, I thought to myself, 'Why should I change my mainframe just to try to get others to respect me?' It wouldn't make me happy. I want to be respected in spite of my height." She stared at the firearm placed next to her. "It's just really annoying that the gun I got an Imprint of is a reminder of how short I am."

"Huh." Thompson leaned back. "I'd have never thought that that was your take on the whole situation. You know, you come off as a whiny brat whenever you tell people to not call you short." This earned her a glare. "Still, a self-imposed handicap isn't the smartest choice on the battlefield..."

"We both got killed, and you don't have any sort of handicap, as far as I'm aware. Your point is moot." Super-Shorty folded her arms. "What's the last thing you remember before you got killed?"

"Bit of a personal question, there, pipsqueak." The mobster drew the brim of her hat down. She consulted the audio-video recording database in her neural cloud. "Lemme see... I'd just gotten off the phone with the Commander. He was inquiring about MDR's and RFB's performances, and my opinion on them. He's nosy like that. I guess you two have that in common."

No T-Doll ever remembered her own death. Thompson saw it as a flaw in the neural cloud's recording system.

A flaw that'd yet to be fixed by IOP or 16LAB.

The sole detail recorded was the time of 'death', and even that could be unreliable. It was, in reality, the instant a neural cloud disconnected from the T-Doll mainframe before it got stored on a server rented by Griffin.

If Thompson's time of death had been correctly recorded, then there was a difference of two hours between her last backed-up memory and her demise.

"And how long was that before you - "

" - Got offed? Two hours, according to the recording system."

Super-Shorty seemed to shrink in on herself. "How fortunate. I'm missing three weeks of memories."

Thompson hid a wince. 'I've been in that boat before.' The Commander was going to be torn up by the shotgunner's news.

"Pocky?" offered the SMG Doll, holding out her box. She didn't like sharing with cops, but today was an exception.

"...No thanks."


End file.
